> Inverno’s Opus in A Minor
>  by CrackedInkWell
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Prelude in A Minor
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Are we sure if this is a good idea?”

Shining turned away from the book to his wife lying next to him on their bed. “Huh? What is?”

“Sending Inverno to school. Are we sure this won’t backfire in any way?”

“Why not? I mean he’s fourteen now, and we both agree that he needs to get out more often. The Empire has finally accepted him, and he could freely walk the streets now without being afraid of getting beaten up.”

“But sending him at a public school?” Cadence adjusted herself in bed. “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’m not entirely against the notion of him interacting with ponies his age, but how are we sure it’s the right way for him to make friends? He’s going to be thrown in with teachers he’s never met to give lessons that aren’t related to music. And on top of that, a school that’s full of teenagers.”

“So?”

“Don’t you think that putting him, a colt that's emotionally sensitive, in a building full of teens that haven’t exactly learned how to be mature won’t backfire in any way?”

“But I don’t see why not,” Shining said as he put his book aside. “I mean, as much as Inverno is getting better, he doesn’t do much outside of the music room. Playing on the organ or piano, sketch music, listening to hours of classical on vinyl, and... that's it. And when he does want to go out, it’s to see an orchestra and then come right back. I’m not against it, except I’m afraid that he’s putting himself in a bubble. He still doesn’t have a friend, and he doesn’t fully know how the real world works.

“And putting that aside, we can’t always look after him all the time. We have the Empire and Flurry to look after too.”

“We still have Sunburst,” Cadence pointed out.

“True,” Shining nodded, “that guy is a real lifesaver some days. I mean, if he didn’t come out of his house to see all that snow… Who knows what might have happened. But at least he’s good with Flurry.”

“Yeah… Not so much with Inverno. If anything, I wonder if he’s outright avoiding him.”

“Why, he spends more time with the baby? In his defense, Flurry is a hoofful to handle with all of what she can do.” Putting the book on the nightstand, he shifted till he was facing his wife. “But back on topic, I think this would be good for Inverno. He’s always willing to learn and I’m sure there is a world that just goes beyond music. I bet when he interacts with the students there, he'll see that life is more than just playing the piano.”

“And his teachers?”

Shining waved a hoof, “I've already sent a letter to explain his unique situation. It would be their job tomorrow to take care of things from there. So don’t worry, I’m sure this will work out fine.”





For Inverno, the idea of a school sounded appealing at first. A place to learn alongside ponies like him his age sounds promising. Five days out of the week, he will be learning a different subject every hour with a lunch break by noon. Not only would he learn more about the outside world, but he could befriend those from one of many school clubs. On paper, it sounded fantastic. For the first time in months, Inverno felt excited about something.

On that morning he combed his coat and tied his long gray mane back with the only thing he could find: a purple bow. He gathered up his books, ate his breakfast, and was escorted over to the school. Diamond Head Jr. High was a short but expansive looking building of white crystal that held its flag of seven diamonds proudly. Even before Inverno could go inside, he saw foals that were about his age heading towards one of its many entrances. He, of course, has seen them before, but never this many in one place as if they were all going to a concert.

Even before he could enter the maze-like corridors, the rows of lockers and classrooms, Inverno was well aware of the eyes of the countless young students that followed him in. It didn’t make him feel any better that as soon as he arrived on its front steps - that was as far as the Crystal Guards went - he would have to be on his own for the rest of the day. Apart from the stares he got as he looked at a map of the school’s layout and heading towards his first class, his ears were buzzing by the chaotic amount of noisy chatter. If anything, there was nothing else but talk all around in every direction as he went to his class.

His ears picked up bits of their conversations, and most of them were about him.

“It’s about time they let Sombra’s pet out.” Muttered one.

“Isn’t that Inverno? I didn’t know he came here.” Said another.

“Check out Count Dracula over there.” And so on.

The more whispers, muttering, and outright comments he heard, the more he tried to pick up the pace to get out of the rumor-filled hallways and into the classroom. In a near gallop, only as soon as he went past the door, it had the opposite effect as the students in the room became disturbingly quiet.

“Oh, you must be the new student.” Behind a desk, an elderly mare waved at him to take a seat near the windows. “Just take a seat, we’ll be starting in a few minutes.”

Inverno did so, and while the muttering did pick up again, he could swear that as soon as he sat down, the nearby desks seemed to break away just a little. But needless to say, he wasn’t exactly in the mood to see if this was so. ‘Already I feel like going home.’ He thought.

By nine o’clock sharp, a shrieking bell rang that made the colt nearly jump out of his seat. However, before he could recover from the heart attack, the old mare behind the desk began. “Good morning students, before we move onto understanding multiplying fractions, there’s a new student that I’d like you to meet.” She waved over at him to stand up. “Would you tell us your name and something interesting about yourself?”

Inverno tilted his head. “Why?”

“So that we would get to know you better.”

‘How would that do anything if I just tell them my name and a fact about me?’ He thought but turned around in his seat to face the student. “Hello, my name is Inverno. And I compose music.”

A hoof was raised, “Like you write songs or something?” One of the students asked.

Inverno blinked, resisting the urge to facehoof. “Uh… That too. I write a bunch of stuff for the keyboard and orchestra.” He saw several looks of surprise on their faces that added even more confusion. ‘Didn’t any of them know this about me already? With the symphony all those months ago, one would think that at least a hoofful of them would probably know by now.’

The unicorn hoped that maybe this would be the opportunity for getting to know his fellow classmates, but the math teacher insisted on starting up on her lesson as she spoke about fractions. While Inverno knew a little about basic mathematics, the textbooks that described what a fraction is, the demonstration of the teacher on the chalkboard, and encouraging the students to do the same, Inverno found himself not invested with this piece of knowledge. At best he found it boring, and at worst, none of it made any sense.

If anything, when the teacher passed around sheet paper that gives a few problems for her students to solve, Inverno didn’t do anything except stare at it. Even with what was explained to him, it was like a whole new language to him. ‘How am I going to use this?’ he wondered. ‘Isn’t the point of a school is to teach useful things that you may need one day?’

For the rest of that class, all Inverno did with the sheet of paper was to pen a few variations on a melody he invented out of his boredom. He drew up lines over the math problem and jotted down notes and a rhythm to play with. The colt wasn’t paying attention to the teacher or the students as he sunk into embellishing and developing the melody.

“Inverno,” he looked up at the math teacher that was right next to his desk, a disapproving gaze was in her eyes. “You’re supposed to fill out the assignment, not doddle over it.”

“I didn’t understand it,” he said plainly. “You can’t expect me to finish something that I don’t understand, so I’m doing something more… what’s the word? Productive.”

At first, Inverno saw a flash of anger on the teacher’s face, but before she could say a word to scold him, she paused. Meditating on what her response would be without inflicting on herself the wrath of Inverno that Cadence and Shining had warned her about. So calming herself down, she asked him to set his composition aside and explain what exactly he didn’t understand about the lesson.

Inverno, much to his increasing annoyance, didn’t stop with the first class that morning. The exact same thing happened in Equestrian, History, Geography, Literature, Basic Magic, and many more throughout the day. One class after another with teachers lecturing about things and subjects that seemed to have next to nothing to do with what he usually does on a daily basis. He found most were either irritating or had no patients with him.

Even the promptings the teachers were giving to him didn’t help much of his opinion of them.

“Inverno, are you with the class?”

“Would you care to interpret that passage in the textbook?”

“We need for you to pay attention, you can draw later.”

“No, you may not go home yet.”

However, there was an opportunity to get to know the students – and that was during lunch break. At first, this too seemed like a good idea, the cafeteria was one of the school’s largest rooms that had rows of tables and ponies that gave Inverno plenty to choose from. He thought that was such a wide variety of youthful ponies like him, it shouldn’t be a problem to maybe find at least one friend among them.

So after waiting half an eternity in line for a tray of food, he set out looking for a table to eat at and ponies to eat with. Since he noticed that many of them had paired off in groups, he figured that it made things easier to see if he could make a friend with one of them.

“Can I sit here?” Inverno asked the first table he came across.

“Uh…” the students looked at one another with uncertainty. “We’re expecting someone and we’re just saving their seat.”

So he went to another. “This spot is taken.” Said another.

But this didn’t discourage Inverno as he simply went to the next table, asking to sit at the table that would have him. Fortunately, he managed to find a table. There were two fillies and a colt that looked somewhat similar to his age. After asking if he could sit with them and told him that they wouldn't mind, Inverno asked who they were.

“I’m Sage Leaf,” the green crystal colt shook his hoof, “and these two are my friends: Rosemary and Thyme.”

Inverno tilted his head. “Someone named you Time?”

“Yeah, I know,” the yellow filly smirked but rolled her eyes, “I get that a lot. It’s spelled T-H-Y-M-E.”

“That joke gets old pretty fast though.” The light purple filly named Rosemary said.

“I’m used to it.” Thyme replied before turning back to the unicorn. “And your name?”

“Inverno.”

The three of them blinked. “As in, Princess Cadence and Prince Shining’s kid?” Sage asked and Inverno nodded. “Huh… You know… You don’t look like anything I’ve heard about you.”

“Let me guess,” Inverno deadpanned, “a monster?”

Immediately, all three of them denied this. “Oh no no no!” Rosemary said, “Nothing like that. At least, from what I’ve kinda heard about you.”

“Basically rumors.” Thyme added quickly. “Which might not be all true, of course.”

“What kind of rumors?” Inverno inquired.

“The ones I’ve heard,” Sage answered. “Was that apparently you were locked up in a room for your whole life until Cadance and Shining let you out.”

“Yeah,” Thyme nodded, “and apparently you were brainwashed.”

Inverno blinked. “What’s brainwashed?”

Sage thought for a moment before saying: “It’s when someone tricks you into thinking or believing stuff that isn’t true that it is.”

“Like lying?”

The three of them looked at one another. “Uh… kinda?” Rosemary said. “When someone is brainwashed, they’re convinced of things that only the guy who is convinced to change their beliefs by force or manipulated into thinking that way. That they could be told that the sky is pink, and even if they knew that wasn’t true, they had to say that it is. Does that make sense?”

“I guess…” Inverno raised an eyebrow. “But it wasn’t like that for me. Papa- Sombra,” he quickly corrected himself, “had put me in an apartment that I was never allowed to leave. Telling me that the world was too dangerous for me to go out, that there were monsters and stuff like that.”

The three foals looked back at him. “That makes it even worse.” Thyme remarked. “You were never allowed to leave? At all?”

“Not when he was alive.” He shook his head. “But I don’t want to go into that. I actually wanted to make some friends at school. So,” Inverno smiled, leaning forward a little, “do any of you like music?” When told that they did, he immediately asked them who they liked.

“I like Sapphire Shores.” Sage raised a hoof.

“Countess Coloratura’s better.” Thyme said.

Rosemary scoffed, “Yeah they’re good, but they’re not Songbird Serenade. Now she can sing.”

Inverno blinked. “Who are they?”

Three foals stared back at him. “Are you serious?” Rosemary asked in shock. “You have never heard of them?” Inverno shook his head. “Celestia, you weren’t kidding on the whole isolation thing, weren’t ya? Uh, give me a sec…” The filly reached underneath her seat to pull out her saddlebag. She opened a flap in which she pulled out a pair of headphones that had a wire that connected to thick a looking disk with buttons on the side. “Here, put these on, I’ll play you a song that’s from Songbird’s latest album.”

Inverno was immediately interested as he was going to hear the latest modern music. Putting the headphones over his ears, he waited (if not impatiently) to see what new harmonies and creative sounds would cast a spell on these three. And then, Rosemary pressed a button in which a song came up through the speakers in his ears.

The foals noticed how Inverno’s cat-like eyes had widened when the song began to play, looking around the room as if he was expecting something. Then a moment in, he giggled. “Okay, I get it. It’s a joke, isn’t it? That's funny, but c'mon, where is the actual song?”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s comically simplistic,” Inverno replied. “Almost like a foal’s drawing. Just dark base percussion with electric buzzing, and the singer? She sounds really bored. So, come on, where’s the real song?”

The other two foals chuckled at this while Rosemary folded her forelegs annoyed. Thyme insisted on playing her favorite music next as she and Sage brought their disks as well. However, as Inverno had them play a song from the other musicians, the unicorn’s humorous smile dropped as he quickly realized that this wasn’t a joke. This was the style of music they liked.

“That’s it?” Inverno asked as he took off the pair of headphones. “I mean… really? Why do you like this? It’s the same percussion beating too loudly while the only difference between them all is a melody that hasn’t moved beyond its first draft. I don't know if I can tell the difference between the three singers. It’s looking at three different paintings in which the whole canvas is just one color.”

It didn’t take too long for the three of them to banish him from the table.

So he moved, from one table to the next to see if there was anyone that would have him. The next table he sat down to was crowded by fillies that were a little bit older than he was. But Inverno decided to quickly move on after he asked them the question if they knew how to play a musical instrument, to which, none of them didn’t.

The next table he was able to sit down at was populated by a group of ponies that all wore glasses. At first, Inverno hoped that maybe he might have found those like him as they sounded intelligent enough, but he brought up the question of whose music he liked and he answered with, “I’m split between Beethooven or Vifilli.” They responded that they didn’t know who the latter composer was.

Near the end of the school’s lunch break, Inverno quickly ate his already cold meal but had time to compose a quick tune.





Fortunately for Inverno, there was one class that he was looking forward to the most. And to his delight, it was music-related. The final class that day was choir.

‘At last,’ he thought as he entered the room with rising steps in which students took their spots, ‘something that’s at my level.’ He took a spot that was in the front row, near a standing piano that no doubt their teacher would be playing at.

The teacher for this final class was a stallion that seemed to be as old as Shining. He was a sky-blue crystal pony that greeted his class with a smile. After welcoming the new student (and Inverno giving the same follow-up questions that he heard all day) the teacher instructed the class through a series of choral exercises. A series of tune-ups from singing scales to doing nonsensical things such as making silly noises at different pitches.

By the time they finally got around to what they would be singing, the teacher passed over to Inverno some of the sheet music as he was new to the class. A little notebook in which, as the unicorn went through it, had only three songs in them. He raised a hoof, “Excuse me, is this all?”

“What do you mean?” the teacher inquired.

“Well, why three songs? Especially when they’re kind of… short.” Inverno wasn’t wrong, each of those three songs didn’t go past four pages at most.

“That’s because that at the end of the semester, we have a recital in which we have not just this class, but those before us that want to sing too, I had to choose a few that don’t go over our strict time limit, but just enough to rehearse with all the students.”

But Inverno didn’t feel satisfied, even when they began to go over the three songs, he couldn’t help but notice that even these songs were… simple. And all of them were folk songs as well that, while Inverno sang with the rest of them, he couldn’t help but imagine all the possible variations in his head that they could have used. To make them richer and deep with every passing bar. He would have excused the simplicity of it all if this was meant for foals much younger than he was. But in a school that was his age, if not a little bit older…? All of it just seemed demeaning that he would be roped in with those that maybe his age, but nowhere near the level of creativity that he has.

By the time the final school bell rang, Inverno just about had enough of this pointless day.

“Inverno, isn’t it?” the unicorn turned around, just as he was about to exit the choir room to find a colt that looked older than he was. A pomegranate red crystal pony that was putting things in his saddlebag.

“Yes?” Inverno asked with a suspiciously raised eyebrow.

“I think you did really well with those songs today.” He began. “And we’ve been doing this for nearly a month but, you’ve pretty much nailed it.”

“Oh… thank you.” He smiled at the compliment.

“Really, I mean it. You hit those notes perfectly- oh come on, you’re a filly, aren’t you?”

Inverno blinked. Not only because of the sudden change in tone, but the question being asked. “I… Sorry, what?”

“C’mon,” he said with a confident gleam in his eye, “you can tell me.”

He blinked again. “I’m sorry but… what?”

“That voice is a little too high for a colt.” The older colt pointed out. “As in, way up there. That and the bow you tied your mane together… it just has some of us wondering if you were a colt or a filly is all.”

“Us?”

Inverno noticed that he made a quick glance, in which he followed to a clump of students in a corner looking on. “I mean, personally there’s nothing wrong with having a bow in your mane and having a high singing voice.” The older colt added: “We were just… you know… curious is all. And we weren’t exactly sure as your snout is undoubtedly a colt’s, but your voice… we just weren’t sure is all.”

“I’m a colt.”

Now it was his turn to blink. “Really? Huh… I could have sworn that you were a-”

Inverno at that point was done. With a frustrated snort, he took his things and stormed out of the school. Almost tempted to bring it to ruins. But knowing his new parents that if he did, they would scold him.
> 1: Of Isolation and Friends in A Minor
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Later that cool night, Inverno propped his forelegs on the railings of a balcony. Silently looking upward at the tiny lights of the evening sky that flicker ever so slightly, contemplating over his first day of school. In truth, the colt had plenty on his mind for hours now. Even if it weren’t for the cries of the baby that his parents were taking care of were keeping him up, he was still too troubled to try to go back to bed.

“I take it you can’t sleep either?” Inverno nearly jumped at the unexpected voice of Shining Armor. “Woah, easy there, sorry for sneaking up on you like that.” He said with a yawn. “I just came by to check up on ya. Are you doing okay?”

“Uh… yeah, I think so…”

Shining raised an eyebrow. “Maybe I’m a little tired, but something tells me that something must be bothering you.”

“What makes you say that?”

“You’re awake past three-thirty in the morning looking up at the sky – that, and you trailed off there. So I take that something is eating away at you?” He sat on his haunches next to his adopted son. “You know that you can tell me or Cadance anything, right Inverno?”

With a sigh, he said, “Dad, is being too different a bad thing?”

Shining tilted his head. “In what way?”

“Well… Putting aside that I was… you-know-who’s son, that the Empire once saw me as a monster because of that, and that I can see music… there’s much about me that’s making me realize that I’m not exactly a normal colt.”

“I think I might have a guess,” Shining rubbed his head, “does it have to do with trying to send you to school?”

There was a pause before Inverno said, “I don’t think I want to go back anymore.”

His father’s ears perked straight up. “Is somepony bullying you?”

“What?” Inverno looked up in confusion.

“Has someone beating you up? Calling you names? Giving you insults for no good reason?”

“No, no…” He shook his head. “It’s actually the opposite. The school you and Mom are having me go to… it’s so… boring.”

“So?”

“I mean… let’s put aside my teachers are giving lessons that I don’t see as useful, but the students there… they are incredibly dull. Every one of them! I know how you and Mom told me that if I go to school, I would interact with them so they can be friends with me. But when I tried... I couldn't find one to make a connection with. Even if they were interested in music, they have either poor taste or have no clue about anything that isn't modern. None of them knows how to play an instrument, or have an imagination when it comes to creating music. And even what they think is great music is all the same! They’re all bores. Bore, bore, bore! Every single pony in that school from the students to the headmare is so boring that I’m close to screaming!” He finished his rant by burying his face in his hooves to give a frustrated moan.

“There, there,” Shining patted his shoulder, “I’m certain that isn’t true.”

“Oh really?” Inverno said sarcastically. “Name me one piece of Classical music that isn’t Beethooven’s Fifth.” Silence. “I rest my case.”

“C’mon Inverno, there’s so much more to life than just Classical music.”

“But it’s what I’m good at dad. I got my cutie mark because of it! Yet, how many at the school has any idea of the complexities of composition, or the effort of performing it? Should I tell you, dad? None! How can I do what you and Mom asked me to ‘make some friends’ when it’s impossible for me to find anypony there that I could relate to?”

“Inverno,” Shining said as he lifted his foreleg, “come here.” His adopted son sighed as he leaned his head on his withers, embracing him in a hug. “It’s not that I don’t get what it’s like to going out of your comfort zone to meet other ponies. Trust me, I’ve been there. When I was your age, it was hard for me to find anypony who would like me, much less have a conversation with. I know this will sound crazy, but there are ponies out there that would make great friends in ways that you may not expect. Sure, they might not have the exact same interests as you do, but it does help give you a new point of view. I mean the connections you do make, when done properly, could last a lifetime. The trick, of course, is to find those that you can connect with on some level. All it takes is patience, and the willingness to be open to others.”

“Easier said than done,” Inverno murmured.

“Look,” his father sighed, “it’s really late, and you should get some sleep. We can talk about this when there’s daylight. But for now, we really need to go to bed. Okay?”

After Shining managed to get his son back to bed and returning to his own, Inverno still couldn’t sleep as rebellious thoughts came to his head.

‘He knows that he’s asking the impossible, right?’ His mind questions. ‘Having me make friends is like asking a blind pony to read out one of those eye charts. If he really knew what I have to put up with, he’ll know how lonely it is to be surrounded by those that you have nothing in common. If he’s being honest, how many of them had a parent who was a lying tyrant? Or adopted? Or could see music as it’s being played? Learning how to write music before writing your own name?’

Inverno tossed and turned in his bed as his thoughts of frustration give way for longing.

‘On the other hoof… I wish there were friends that I could at least talk to. I wish I had somepony like Professor Key. Sure, he may be old, but at least everything he taught and did was interesting and I’ve learned a lot. If it weren’t for him, I wouldn’t have known of the other composers out there like Buch, or Moztrot, Beethooven, or even Horseshoepin. Just getting my hooves on their music alone, and being able to play them, I don’t feel so lonely. Why can’t they still be around so they could be my…’

The colt sat straight up. A thought came to him like a whispering muse in his ear. Twilight did give him those books to study magic from before she left, Professor Key did leave behind a list of recommendations of some influential composers, and his biological father (if the rumors were true) has a library in which housed some magic that he was experimenting with.

“Yes…” He asked himself softly. “Why not?”



 

The first step of his plan was to study. He took Twilight’s book to basic magic to heart as he poured and practiced over spells that served as a foundation for any unicorn like himself. Sure, it may have distracted him from his usual pastime of composition and improvising on a keyboard for weeks, but to his mind, it was worth it.

Next was to locate the hidden library of his biological father. Although he has seen the dungeons and even the bedroom which he once occupied in, he was never shown his private study. If anything, he came across it by spying on Cadence and Twilight opening up a secret entrance underneath the throne room by using dark magic. That very night, he had to sneak past the guards in which he spent hours of trial and error to figure out how to unlock it. But once he was able to get angry for repeatedly failing did the descending spiral staircase opened up.

When he got to the very bottom, he found a lone door in which he found was unlocked. At first, he was curious what the big deal was with the rumors of this infamous door, but that was put aside as he entered into Sombra’s study. There he found books upon books that the colt spent a long time scanning and searching for anything useful to his goal.

At last, one page caught his attention.



Mental Resurrection Ritual

After several months of experimentation, I think I have found a way to possibly bring anyone back from the dead. While the following ritual may not bring the physical body of the one who died, it may bring back the very minds of those who passed away, even centuries ago!

The following instructions are how to do that very thing.

First: A sample of a living creature is needed. This could be anything from a strand of hair, a drop of saliva, a body part, or whatever essence of them. Preferably said sample must be from one who is healthy and young. For the best results, the sample must be touched as little as possible.

Second: After choosing the individual you want to resurrect, you must go and collect as much of whatever they have created as possible. Copies of the originals work just as well, but they must be something that the individual has made. Be it a piece of artwork like a statue, a painting, or drawing. Or things they themselves have written such as diaries, poems, letters, sheet music, books, etc… The most important part is to gather as many of whatever they have left behind as possible. The more surviving of their creations there are, the greater the chance that the mind of the one getting resurrected would make them complete.



Inverno read the final step of the ritual itself, finding that he would have to combine a few spells from Twilight’s lesson book, it was do-able. Almost easy if anything. The most difficult part was the preparation of the ritual. However, at the very bottom of the page, he found a warning.



However, it should be observed that the result of this ritual, if successful, may have side effects on the ones who come back from the dead. Not only is confusion expected, but depending on the user who carries out the ritual, the ones who do get resurrected might have a variation of one or more traits from the one who casts it. This doesn’t mean giving them an exact copy of one’s special traits/talents to the resurrected, but rather might receive a different variation of it. The end result may vary and have been proven to be dangerous. If that being the case, there is also a ritual to undo it on the opposite page.



“It might be risky,” Inverno said as he decided to tear the page out from the book. “But at least it would mean that I would have friends. And if worse comes to worst, I could always reverse it.”



 

As Inverno quickly found out, it was surprisingly easy getting the “physical samples” than it was to gather together the documents of his intended friends. All he had to do was to go out into the Empire on a Saturday, to mingle in with the tourist crowd to pluck a hair or feather of those that best fit the requirements. Although Inverno did want to try to get the resemblance as close as possible, even if some of them were of different species, he managed to find what he needed in one visit.

As for the documents… It wasn’t that he couldn’t get the information about the ones he wanted to resurrect, but rather that there were too many to choose from. Almost several dozens of composers that he would love to be friends with, yet from what he read of their short biographies, they were either aren’t interesting enough or didn’t have much of an impact on music. So, he decided to narrow his list down to just twelve. He wanted a ground that was large but not to the point where it was too overwhelming.

All that remained was the place to carry out the ritual. He knew that it probably wasn’t a good idea to carry it out at home. After all, as far as he knew, doing this wasn’t often done and could result in him getting into a huge amount of trouble.

‘It’s gotta be someplace that I or the ritual wouldn't be disturbed.’ Inverno thought. ‘After all, Papa’s ritual says that it takes several hours to complete on its own. So it must be a place that’s outside of the palace, but isolated enough that not a lot of ponies go to. But where…?’

The answer came in the form of the mode of transport that the tourists come and go. With the addition of the railroad to the Empire, there was the necessity to have a rail yard to keep empty cars that wait for weeks on end. What's more, it's a place that's almost abandoned at night. Inverno knew that if there were any place to carry out his experimental resurrection, it would be there.

So on a calm night, when everypony was asleep, Inverno waited until three in the morning to spring his plan into action. He gathered the physical samples, the large bundles of documents, and the other items needed as he snuck his way down the halls, past the sleeping guards, through the streets, and towards the lines of empty boxcars.

Inverno chose twelve empty cars in the yard in which within each, he places a small metal bowl, a physical sample, all the copies of books, journals, letters, sheet music, and the occasional drawings of a certain composer, drew a circle with some symbols before concentrating his magic to lit the paper on a very slow-burning fire. Once this was done, he closed it up and moved on to the next one.

It surprised Inverno how quickly he was able to start the ritual for each car, by the time he finished, he found that he spent about half-an-hour.

“I really hope this works,” Inverno said to himself, trotting out of the rail yard. He then adds with a smile, “But on the upside, if this does work, then I will finally have some real friends! This is so exciting that I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep tonight!”

Indeed, that exactly what happened. Even as Inverno got back into his room, his mind was galloping at full speed of all the possibilities that he would have with his newly created friends. Of all the things they might teach him. Of the fact that he’s going to meet some of history’s finest composers who ever lived. Of solving once and for all his problems with obtaining friendship.

That morning immediately right after breakfast, he could barely contain himself as he glided out through the crystal streets and around the Crystal Ponies. He almost galloped his way to the rail yards to see the result of what his dream would be coming true. However, as he reached those tracks, his heartfelt had suddenly stopped.

All the cars from the previous night were gone.

“No!” Inverno screamed in panic as he frantically went to the remaining cars. “Nononono, where are they!? Where did they go!?” But even as he searched and opened a few cars that weren’t locked, he found no remaining evidence of his ritual from the night before. To his growing horror, he realized what had happened.

All twelve of his resurrected composers have been moved out of the Crystal Empire.



 

Inside a dimly lit boxcar next to a smoldering metal bowl, a stallion slowly regained his senses. He was aware that he was moving but couldn’t recall as to why or how. His ears picked up a repetitive clacking sound of metal that was increasingly slowing down. Not to mention that he felt quite uncomfortably stiff as he was lying on something hard. Opening his eyes, the Pegasus glanced around this way and that of the barren, wooden box he was in. The only source of light came streaming in through the cracks between the planks of wood.

Stiffly, the stallion got up but found himself falling over as the box moving with a jerky motion. Yet, that didn’t discourage him from peering out between the planks. His eyes went wide as he saw towers of brick, glass, and metal in the distance. At first, he couldn’t comprehend what he was looking at. This place was absolutely nothing like the simple towns that he had been to. Something about what he was looking at seemed rather… advanced somehow.

Then, his eyes caught a glance at a sign as the box he was in slow down. 

Welcome to Vanhoover. 

But when the box he was in stopped, ponies in strange, bright orange jackets moved about. Some opened up boxes much like he was in to unload goods. When one of them got to his car to open up, they yelled out: “Hey! What are you doing in here?”

“Uh… what?”

“You think you could just earn a free ride ya, tramp!”

“What?”

The one who was yelling at him, a scruffy looking unicorn, lit up his horn to pull him out by the ear. “You’d better come with me.”

“Ow! Let go!” the Pegasus tried to fly away but the pull on his ears only made it worse. “Where are you taking me?”

“Security, where else?” The unicorn rolled his eyes. “You do know that this is pretty much illegal, right? Hitching a ride on a train without paying. How did you get on that train anyway?”

“I don’t know! I just woke up and I don’t know where I am.”

The unicorn stopped to look at him. “Are you being serious with me?”

“It’s the truth! I don’t know what is going on. Or how I got here for that matter.”

“Huh…” His aggressor blinked. “Who are you anyway?”

“Johann.” He answered. “My name is Johann Buch. Can you please tell me how I got here?”
> 2: Responsibility in G Major
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Inverno had spent hours searching the rail yards with no success. Going up and down the lines of rails, opening box cars, knocking on those that have been locked in hopes to find at least one of them. However, it became clear that where ever they were, they were most likely been sent out of the Crystal Empire.

“Where have they have gone?” He wondered aloud. “I could have sworn that these trains don’t move that often. Did… Did somepony throw the stuff out? No, I would have found them by now. So that must mean that they were all taken out of the Empire. But where to?” Inverno rested by one of the wheels of the cars in which he leaned on. “Great, now I need to get help.”

Looking over to the crystal tower of the palace, he sighed. “I really hope they wouldn't be mad at me.”

And so, Inverno walked back in shame, his head bowed low as he made his way back to the palace. Through the front doors and up the stairs, down hallways, and past the elegant rooms, he went directly towards the throne room. At this point in the day, they were still holding court. And annoyingly, there was a line of petitioners waiting to get in. With a groan, he got in the back of the line, getting more anxious about the thought of those composers he brought back.

‘They must be really scared by now.’ He thought, ‘I’ve just brought my heroes back and they’re stuck in boxcars. Heading off to someplace they’ve probably never been before. They must be so confused, and scared, and… What did Papa’s warning about the ritual say? That they might have some kind of powers as a side effect? What exactly does that mean? If they get angry, could they… break something… or someone…?’

After taking a deep breath to calm himself, his thoughts focused elsewhere. ‘Even if they don't do that, you have brought back composers centuries ago and are currently lost. You need help finding them. And the only ones that could help are mom and dad. Surely, they’ve done weird things like this before. Just go in and tell them that you’ve messed up, and you need help. But they would get mad, wouldn’t they? It’s not like this resurrection spell has been used often, right? Oh, what am I saying? Of course, they’re going to get mad! I just did some forbidden magic behind their backs, that did… I don’t know what – and somepony decided to send them out somewhere to the South. Into Equestria that could do who-knows-what kind of damage. How am I going to tell-’

“Hey, kid?” a guard’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts. “Are you here to see your parents or something?”

“Uh…” Inverno hesitated before nodding. “Yes. It’s an emergency.”

Nodding, the guard opened the crystal doors for him where his parents were on the other side of the room. His mother sat on the throne while her husband stood next to her. Inverno gulped as his name was announced.

Cadence cocked an eyebrow. “Inverno? Do you need anything? We're still doing our jobs, sweetie.”

“Uh…” Inverno hesitated, his mind froze trying to think of what exactly to say.

“Everything alright?” Shining asked. But there was no answer. Walking over, he waved a hoof in front of his face. “Hello? Equestria to Invern-”

“I’m sorry!” Inverno busted out. “Really! I am! I'm so sorry! I didn’t think that it would turn out-” Shining put a hoof in his muzzle.

“First off, calm down.” He said. “Before you go Auntie Twilight on us, just take your time, and explain. What exactly are you trying to apologize for?”

“I uh…” Inverno took in a deep breath. “I… did something stupid. Really stupid.”

“Inverno, dear,” Cadence pointed out as she got off her throne, “what happened? Is somepony hurt?”

Another deep breath. “Just… promise you two won’t be mad at me.”

“How serious is this?” Shining asked.

“I… I don’t really know. But I need help and I don’t know what to do. So to make a long story short, I uh… tried to make friends, literally.” Intrigued, his adopted parents asked him to expand on it. So Inverno went into detail about using a metal resurrection ritual that he had found in Sombra’s library. That he used it to befriend those that he admired by making them. He told them of using the boxcars from the rail yards to conduct the ritual, but he found that all of them were moved out of the Empire sometime during the night while expressing the concern of the possible side effects that might have had if they did come back.

Shining raised a hoof. “Inverno, you said 'boxcars.' As in, more than one. So how many were you trying to resurrect?”

Inverno pawed at the ground. “I had twelve in mind.”

“Twelve?” Cadence said in surprise. “Inverno, I get that you’re lonely but… twelve? Isn’t that a bit much?”

“I didn’t get to say who they were yet.” The young unicorn interjected.

Cadence took in a deep breath. “Okay, who are they?”

“Well to put it chronologically: Lully, Buch, Vifilli, Moztrot, Beethooven, Schubit, Paganeighni, Horseshoepin, Liszt, Tchaicoltsky, Maneler, and Debussy.”

“And you have no idea where they are?”

Inverno shook his head. “I honestly didn’t know those train cars would be moved at all. I tried looking around in the rail yard but I couldn’t find anything.”

Cadence put her hoof to her chin as she turned to her husband. “Shining, Can I speak to you alone for a minute?” After telling Inverno to stay in that spot, the two of them went out of earshot of their adopted son towards a window. The Princess said softly to her husband, “This needs to be taken care of.”

“Obviously. I mean, I kinda get why he did it, but I’m torn between being angry that he did this without letting us know or impressed that he did it at all.”

“Nevertheless, Inverno is taking responsibility in telling us there’s a problem he can’t fix on his own. That, and he’s right to be nervous if what he says about those side effects are true. He may have unleashed something that hasn’t been seen before magic-wise. And even if that weren’t the case, there are twelve ponies out there that have been time-displaced and being sent out to an Equestria they don't recognize.”

“Yeah, but how are we going to find these guys? Sure, we could ask whoever is in charge where those cars have gone off to, but even then, how would we know what they look like? Inverno himself said that he plucked hair and feathers from tourists, so they probably won’t look exactly like what they originally were.”

“True.” Cadence nodded, humming in thought. Looking over her shoulder at Inverno, she said to Shining: “I think this time you should go with him.”

“What?”

“I mean, out of the two of us, you’ve been trained to go on missions before. And somepony has to stay here, both for Flurry and the Empire. Besides, Inverno has never been to Equestria, and you haven’t exactly spent that much quality time with him. So perhaps this would be good for both of you.”

“That, and he might have some idea what they look like when he sees them…” Shining thought aloud. “I think that if there’s gonna be any success in finding them, I’m going to need a few guards to come with us. And Professor Key Signature too, he studied these dead composers so he might have some idea what they would do or where they might try to go.”

“Agreed.”

“But there’s one thing that bothers me.”

“That being?”

After a quick glance at their adopted son, Shining asked, “If we do find them all, what are we going to do with them?”





“Hello?” In a dark, dusty boxcar, a voice calls out. “Hello? Is anypony there? Hello? The door is locked.” The stallion tried to push on the sliding door but found it wouldn’t budge. “Hello! Please let me out!”

“Hello?” Another voice called out. One that sounded nearby.

“Hello? I’m in here!”

There was a sound of something heavy being moved before hoofsteps were heard that trotted up to the car he was locked in. He heard the sound of a unicorn lighting up his magic before the door finally opened, instantly blinding him.

“Are you alright?” A pair of hooves climbed aboard to help him out. After blinking a few times, his eyes became adjusted as he saw a slender unicorn who was a dark brown unicorn with a long blond mane. “For a while, I thought I might have been alone here.”

“Huh?”

“Tell me, did you too happened to wake up in a place like this and have no idea how you got here?”

“Well… yes? How did you know?” 

"Because it just happened to me too."

The earth pony blinked. “I’m sorry, do I know you?”

He shrugged, “Can’t say. Everything is so out of the way this morning that even I’m trying to figure out what’s going on uh…” The unicorn paused as he said, “Hold on, I just realized that I haven't caught your name. What is it?”

“Fryderyk,” he replied as he shook his hoof, “my name is Fryderyk Horseshoepin.”

This got a shocked reaction out of the unicorn. “Pardon me but… what?”

“Horseshoepin.” The earth pony reinstated. “That is my name.”

The unicorn shook his head, “No that… You can’t… No, no, this…” After taking a deep breath he let out. “I’m sorry, are you perhaps a… a distant cousin? Someone that happens to have the same name or something?”

Horseshoepin tilted his head. “What are you talking about? I’m Fryderyk Horseshoepin, I’m 39 years old, from Końland and… Last thing I remember I was very sick in Paris. I’m a pianist you see. Someone who has was ill but I just recovered… why are you looking at me like that?”

The unicorn stared at him in amazement, “Are you… Is that really you…? No, prove it.”

He blinked, “What?”

“Prove to me that you are Horseshoepin.”

“Uh… h-how?”

Closing his eyes, the unicorn thought for a moment before getting an idea. “Do you remember another pianist called Liszt? He played one of your pieces that he improvised a little. If you're really him, what did you do?”

Tilting his head to the side he answered. “Well… I was rather annoyed that he changed something that took time for me to get right. I told him that what I wrote was perfect as it is. So, then he asked me if I would show him how it was meant to be played. He stepped aside and I played on for a very long time. By the end of it, he was so moved that he apologized for interfering with poetry, as he called it… Why do you ask?”

The unicorn’s jaw dropped. “Oh dear Celestia, is it really?” Without warning, he embraced him in a hug. “Horseshoepin! It’s really you! Alive again!”

“Wait a minute!” He pushed him aside. “I’m sorry, what was that?”

“Fryderyk, don’t you recognize me?” The unicorn asked. “It’s me, Franz. Franz Liszt.”

“Wait… really?” Horseshoepin blinked. “You look nothing like him. The one I know is a Pegasus, and you’re a Unicorn.”

“Yes I know, I could say the same with your coat colors.”

Immediately the earth pony looked down at himself. It was a purple coat with a blue mane. Certainly completely different from his usual sandy brown coat and white mane.

Liszt continued, “But I’m telling you the truth, it’s really me! I just… I can’t believe you back. Honestly back. Only…" he trailed off, blinking in confusion, "How? How are you back?”

“What are you talking about?”

For a moment Liszt hesitated as he tried to choose his next words carefully. “This… This might come as a shock. But the very last time I saw you, was at your funeral. And that was about forty years ago.”

Horseshoepin stared at him. “What?”

“I know! I’m trying to wrap this idea around myself.”

“Franz,” the earth pony raised a hoof, “just out of curiosity, what year do you think this is?”

“886. Why?”

“No… That can’t be right, it’s 849.” Both stallions stared at one another. “Franz… What’s going on?”

“Believe it or not, that’s not even the weird part.” He said as he trotted out into the morning light. “Take a look at where we are.”

Confused, Horseshoepin stumbled out into the brilliant light and into a rail yard in which was surrounded by towers of brick, glass, and metal. But what was even more puzzling was the sign nearby that said only one word: Manehattan.

“We’re in Equestria?” he looked over to Liszt. “How did we get here?”

“More importantly, why are we here?” The unicorn pointed out. “I’m just as much in the dark as you are. But I must say, of all the places I’ve visited, this looks… advance somehow.”

“I wonder…” Horseshoepin walked across the railroad tracks in which Liszt followed him up a flight of stairs and onto the bustling streets.

"Fryderyk?" quickly went up to him, "What are you doing?"

Looking around, Horseshoepin spotted what he was looking for: a newsstand. He approached it to pick up the most recent newspaper. “Oh, Celestia… Franz, look at this!”

He peered over his shoulder and Liszt’s eyes widened. With one look, they both knew in a moment, that they were in the future.

“Hey,” the pony behind the rows of magazines and newspapers said, “are ya gonna pay? That’ll be three bits there.”

Instantly, both stallions realized the same problem, one to add with the growing amount they have – they had no money. So putting the newspaper back, they both walked on. “One-thousand-and-three!” Liszt said astonished. “Alright, this is starting to make sense why everything looks the way it does. But what exactly are we going to do?”

“Tell me about it. We’re in a new city, in a new country, in a new time no less. As to why we’re here, and we how got here? Some tormenting demon alone knows. However Franz, at the moment I think I need to state a more... practical problem - we’re broke. For the first time in years, you and I are completely broke. And what’s more… I don’t know if there’s anypony that remembers us.”

Liszt was taken aback. “Fryderyk, are you listening to yourself speak? Of course, we should be remembered! Why I was the most famous pony of my time, and even after your uh… death, there were plenty of ponies that still play your music.”

“But after two hundred years?” Horseshoepin questioned. “Even I know that time always changes ponies tastes, so how do we know there’s a soul out there that knows a single note of what we wrote?”

His friend couldn’t answer back. “Well… regardless, you're right on one thing: we’re stuck here. And since we're here, then we need to make some money." Liszt mused, "After all, in a place this big, one might think there could be a job for us unemployed musicians somewhere.”

“What about over there?” Liszt followed the pointing hoof as it leads directly towards a high end looking restaurant called “The Blue Sun Bar and Grill” wherein the window was a sign that advertised a job to any pianists for hire. 

Looking at one another, the unicorn said, “Well, that might work.”
> 3: Return of an Old Friend in D Major
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Before Inverno and Shining Armor could head out, they had to rope in one more important pony before they could begin their quest. Cadence had already sent a message to Canterlot to bring in by Pegasi chariot as quickly as possible. In the meantime, Shining did some investigating of his own about where those boxcars had gone off to.

Much to Shining's annoyance, it would look like a round trip throughout Equestria from Rainbow Falls in the North to Applewood in the South with several stops in between. In his study, he looked over a map of the whole country that marked out the destinations in which those railcars were supposed to go. But just by looking at it was enough to give him a headache.

“At least there's two places that we could pick up two at the same time.” He mumbled to himself. However, he noticed that most of them were pretty spread out, at least, as far as destinations go. “Of course that only means if they all made it there.”

“Your Highness,” a guard said as he entered, “Professor Key Signature has arrived.”

After thanking him, Shining packed up the map and some remaining items he would need for the trip before heading towards the throne room. In his mind, he does not doubt that his adopted son is probably running in the halls at full gallop to tackle his old teacher to the ground like a tiger would with his prey. Probably little Flurry is hugging his face with her wings that his wife is having trouble making him hold still to peel her off. By the time he got there, it turned out to be the latter.

“Easy! Easy!” Shining walked in time to see his daughter trying to get on the old stallion’s back. As he hadn’t seen the Professor in over a year, he looked the same as he first saw him. A yellow, wrinkled coat with a combed back, trimmed beard, and mane with glasses, and a set of piano keys as a cutie mark. “My back isn’t as strong as it once was.”

His wife was there to lift the playful alicorn off of his back. “Sorry about Flurry,” Cadence said to him, “she can be quite friendly when meeting somepony new.”

“So I noticed.” He chuckled as he took notice of Shining. "Your Highness, long time no see.”

“Thanks for coming up here on such short notice.” The Prince said as he went over to shake his hoof. “Especially for taking some time off for this.”

“Prince Armor, even if this wasn’t an emergency, I wouldn’t pass up an all-paid trip around Equestria with a favorite student of mine for anything. Speaking of which, how is Inverno doing now?”

“Professor Key!” a shout from Inverno was heard as they turned to see galloping hooves rushing over to hug the old stallion. “I’ve missed you so much!”

“Take it easy there,” Key chuckled, “I just got here after all. How are you?”

“I’m about to go outside of the Empire and travel with you, I’m really excited.” Inverno was cut off as he heard Shining clearing his throat. “Oh… So… Have you heard why we’re doing this?”

“That you resurrected twelve of history’s greatest composers and you might have given them powers that might be dangerous? Yes, I have.” The Professor sat on his haunches and placed a hoof on his shoulder. “We’ll talk about this later because I do have some thoughts on the matter. But for now, I have a more pressing question: When do we depart and where are we going?”

“We’ll be going tonight on our private train,” Shining answered as he took out and unrolled the map. “I think it’s best we start by going towards Rainbow Falls first because that's the closest. Although I have no idea who we’re supposed to find over there.”

“How long do you think this will take?” Cadence asked as she picked up Flurry. “Surely this will be a round trip across Equestria, so how long will we be gone for?”

“At a minimum, two weeks.” Shining rolled up the map, trotting over to kiss her daughter on the forehead. “But with some luck, we might be back in less than a month if things go smoothly. However, realistically I think it might take longer. So are you sure you can handle her for that long?”

“I’ll be fine.” His wife replied. “We do have backup help for both Flurry and me, what’s important is to find these ponies and to bring them back here. We’ll figure out what to do with them from there.”

“Of course, Mi Amore,” Shining said before kissing her. “We’ll be back before you know it.”

“Inverno,” Cadence waved over to him to come near. When he did so, his mother hugged him. “Be safe, stay with Shining and Professor Key.”

“I will mom.” Inverno nuzzled her.

After saying their goodbyes, Shining then picked up Inverno’s things that he was taking with him and escorted them out of the palace and across the streets of the Crystal Empire. But as they walked on, Inverno couldn’t help but notice something.

“Uh… Dad, the rail yard is that way.” He said, pointing in the opposite direction.

“We’re not going to the rail yard,” Shining said. “Our train isn’t even above ground.”

“Huh?” Both Inverno and the Professor inquired.

"You'll see what I mean, but you'll have to follow me first."

The Prince leads them to the edge of the city-state in which he entered into a tinny crystal structure that was no bigger than a shed. But as Shining opened it, there was a flight of stairs that lead downward several floors. They followed him underground to where it opened up to a cavernous space, a tunnel carved from the rock that held the crystalline train.

For Inverno, he never saw anything like it. A massive chunk of blue crystal that looked smoother than the locomotives from the railyard. It was sleek as a seal and was connected to five long cars that looked like it was made out of the same material. All around, guards and servants rush along to move crates and supplies onto the train.

“Good evening, your Majesty,” Inverno’s attention snapped towards the one that spoke. There before him were two, familiar Crystal Guards. The one who spoke, a yellow guard that Inverno knew to be Offense, and the other that stood next to him, a purple guard to be his brother, Defense.

Shining introduced them to the Professor, “They’ll be accompanying us during our trip. Of course, there are a few other guards to come with us, but these two will be looking over us the most for security reasons.”

Once introductions were out of the way, they boarded onto the train. Much to Inverno’s amazement, it was much larger on the inside as in one car alone had bunk beds for the three of them, a small library, a phonograph, a movie projector with a screen, and a baby grand piano in a corner. As the car they were on was made out of crystal, there was no need for windows as the walls and ceiling were made out of crystal. The only exception to this was a small bathroom where the walls weren't see-through.

“I had the piano installed just for you,” Shining said to Inverno as he eyes the instrument, “I figured if we’re going to be spending days at a time going around from city to town, that you might as well have something you would enjoy.”

Inverno thanked him. And about several minutes later, the train was ready to depart, zooming out of the tunnel and up to the surface to make its first stop: Rainbow Falls.





Across Equestria, near the city of Applewood, a stallion walks out of his home with a full trash bag in his aura. He walks out the front door and around to the side of his well-kept house where a row of three trash cans with lids was kept. It was difficult to see as the only light was from the aura of his horn and the trash bag. With a tired sigh, he opens one of the lids to dump the dark plastic bag in.

However, before he could turn around, he saw from the corner of his eye something flashing from one of the lids. Raising an eyebrow, his attention was turned towards the slightly opened lid as he braced himself as he swiftly opened it.

“Gah!” the trash can tip over as a young Pegasus with a dark, scruffy beard tumbled over. He was orange and looked up in fear with green eyes. Before he could flee, the unicorn caught him at the end of his tail.

“Hey! Wait a minute!”

“Let me go!” The Pegasus's wings beat harder, but the unicorn used his magic to force him to be turned around to face him.

“Hey! Relax, I just wanna talk.”

“Just let me go,” the young stallion pleaded, “I promise I won’t come here again.”

“But that’s what I want to know. What were you doing in my garbage.”

A growling stomach answered that question. The unicorn, with this realization, took a closer look at the Pegasus he caught. He was young, but also thin as his coat had patches of dirt and his face told him that he was starving on top of being frightened.

“When’s the last time you’ve eaten?”

“I… I don’t know.”

The unicorn, his face becoming sympathetic, lowered the young stallion to the ground. “Listen, I’m going to let you go. Realize that I don’t want to hurt you because as I can see, you need help. So, will you allow me to help you?”

Gulping, the Pegasus nodded, thereby being set free.

“Come inside,” the unicorn said, “we have some leftover dumpling soup so we can give you that and maybe a room for the night.”

“Wait,” the Pegasus reached out, but then stopped as he retracted his hoof, “why are you helping me?”

“Because I can see you need it… I’m sorry, I don’t think I caught your name. My name is Assurance. Doctor Assurance. You?” He asked, reaching a hoof out to him.

The young stallion hesitated for a moment. “Ski,” he lied as shook the doctor’s hoof, “You can call me Ski.”

“Well, Mr. Ski, come inside. My wife and I will get you food…” after taking a sniff, he added, “along with a shower. I’m afraid we don’t have a guest room so all I could offer you is a couch to sleep on.”

Ski didn’t reply as his look of suspicion was stuck on his face. The doctor led him through the front door and into a comfortable home in which, as they walked in, a mare looked up from a book on the couch.

“Who's this?” she asked.

“I think he’s homeless.” Assurance replied, “I found him in a garbage can and he hasn’t eaten in days.”

“He looks like he hadn’t had a bath just as long.” His wife said as she covered her nose. “Why did you let him in? He could be dangerous?”

Ski looked down at himself, “Really?” he deadpanned, “Do I really look that dangerous to you? Ma’am, if I were, you would think I might have a knife on me or something. I promise I'm harmless. I just wanted some food and a place to rest. In fact, I’ll be gone by morning.”

“I don’t know…”

The young Pegasus knelt down, “Please, I’m begging you. I don’t know where I am, and I have no place to go. If you could just spare me something to eat and a place to sleep, I’ll be out of your manes by dawn. I promise that I won’t touch anything you don’t want me to. Just for tonight.”

With a sigh, she looked over to her husband, “He gets some soup, a bath, and sleeps on the couch. But by eight tomorrow, I want him gone.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” Ski said gratefully.

So the couple showed him to the kitchen in which they put the leftover soup on the stove to heat up before serving to the stranger. Once a warm bowl was placed down, they begin asking him questions.

“So, Mr. Ski,” Dr. Assurance began, “Where are you from?”

“If you can believe this, I’m from Budyonny.”

This surprised the couple.

“But that’s practically on the other, frozen side of the world,” the wife said. “How did you come all the way here?”

Ski shrugged, “Can’t exactly say, all I remember was that I was feeling sick. Then the next thing I knew, I woke up in a boxcar with nothing but a bowl that had ashes and nothing else. I’ve been wandering around the city all day, having no idea how I got here. Not to mention that I was starving too, as no place would offer me food. This is the first meal I had all day.”

“Oh…” The doctor scratched the back of his head. “You know, I could get in touch with the Budyonny embassy to see if they could get you back ho-”

“NO!” Ski busted out before covering his mouth. “I mean… No… I don’t think I wanted to go back there.”

“Huh? Why not?”

The stranger remained silent for a moment between mouthfuls of soup. “Let’s just say… I’m not exactly welcomed there anymore.”

“Oh… You’re a refugee.”

Ski shrugged. “Something like that. Yes.”

“So… Did you have a life back in Budyonny?” the wife inquired.

“In a way, yes. I used to write music there.”

“So you’re a songwriter.”

Another shrug, “In a manner of speaking.”

“Full of mystery, aren’t ya?” Assurance smirked.

“I have a question for you Doctor, what are you a doctor of?”

“Therapeutic Psychiatry.” 

Ski tilted his head, "What does that mean?" 

“It means that if clients have some sort of mental issues such as depression or just need someone to give solutions to their personal problems, I offer my services to help them. I have an office in the city that I work from.”

After the three of them talked, Ski finished up his soup. The couple then showed them a bathroom in which they give him the soap, shampoo, and conditioner to help him get cleaned. The young Pegasus nodded and thanked them before they closed the door and he locked it.

As the water started running, Ski put aside the bottles to get a good look in the mirror. Closing his eyes, he let the green flames consume him to the form he found himself in that morning. Opening his eyes, he stared at the black, insect-like creature with solid blue eyes, fangs, and holes in all four of his legs, thin wings and a horn. He felt disgusted by what he was looking at, as he knew deep down that what he was looking at wasn’t him. Not even close.

“Look at you.” He said to his reflection disgusted. “Gone from the most respected composer in the world to a monstrous vagabond. Has fate been cruel to me enough? To live again as this… thing? Not only do I have to hide again, but this time as this creature…”

Sighing sadly, he shook his head. “Oh, whatever happened to you, Tchaicoltsky? What did I do to deserve this?"
> 4: On the Cliffs of Rainbow Falls in F# Minor
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Inverno was stirred awake in the early morning light as the sun shone through the crystal walls of the train. Rubbing his eyes, he slowly opened them to see that the darkness of the night had given way to a landscape that the colt had never seen before. Through the walls and ceiling, Inverno got out of bed with an awestruck view of the towering, steep mountains and its green valleys below. The train followed the tracks on the side of a cliff in which he was able to look out of the wild greenery and clouds that were so close that the colt could swear that he could reach out to touch them.

“Morning kiddo.” Inverno looked over to see Shining walking into their railcar, carrying a tray of what looked like breakfast on his back. “Did you sleep well?”

For the first time, the unicorn colt looked around, seeing that he was alone. “Where’s Professor Key?”

“He’s in the dining car having breakfast. We obviously woke up early, but we let you sleep in. So here you go.” Shining placed the tray down in front of him. It had a glass of orange juice, a bowl of fruit salad, some pieces of toast with butter on the side, and a bowl of oatmeal. “Let’s get you to feed before we reach Rainbow Falls.”

“Thanks…” Inverno looked over at the landscape of trees and mountains flying past them. “Uh, Dad, where are we?”

“Northern Equestria, or more specifically, in a place that’s known as the Yaket Range. At this rate, we should be arriving at Rainbow Falls in less than an hour.”

“Oh… I see…”

Raising an eyebrow, Shining plopped himself down next to his adopted son. “Something on your mind?”

“How big is Rainbow Falls?”

“Not very big as the Crystal Empire. It’s a small place, but really pretty at the same time. If anything, I haven’t exactly been there since… well… after I and Cade got married. We spent our honeymoon there.”

Inverno tilted his head, “What’s a honeymoon?” he asked innocently while picking up a piece of toast in his aura.

“It’s uh…” Shining paused to think of choosing his words carefully. “In a nutshell, it’s a glorified vacation for couples that just got married. A time to… relax, after all the stress of putting the wedding together so that they could have some quality time to themselves.”

Nodding, Inverno munched on his breakfast when he returned to his original idea. “Do you think we might find one of them there at Rainbow Falls?”

Shining sighed as he rubbed the back of his neck. “To be honest… I don’t for sure. All we have to go off is where those boxcars were heading off to. If we’re lucky, really lucky, we might be able to find one of them there. Or at least, somewhere nearby. The thing is that you basically brought back ponies from… hundreds of years back into the present with no idea where they are or what’s happening. Chances are, they might be on the move elsewhere.”

“Where could they go?”

“Try to be in their horseshoes for a moment, Inverno. What if you passed away and someone centuries later decided to one day bring your mind back into a different body – and that you’ve been sent to a different place that you don’t recognize in a world that seems so alien in every way - what would you do if you were them?”

The colt pondered over this while eating the fruit salad. “Maybe… I don’t know… Find some way to go back home, to find out what became of everyone I knew.”

Shining nodded. “Do you see how difficult this is? We’re tracking down ponies from the past that have no clue where they are nor how they got there.”

“But that’s something that I’ve been thinking too. How are we going to find them?”

“By good old fashion detective work. We just have to ask around to see if somepony new came, look for clues to see where one of them could have gone to. So eat up, we’ll be arriving there soon.”





Never, in all the music that Inverno saw that he ever could imagine a place like Rainbow Falls. While it was small as his dad described it, his own breath was taken away at the beauty and color of this village in the clouds. As the train rounded a cliff, Inverno saw an island that seemed to stand on its own among the steep mountain range. There were small buildings and houses that were next to cascading rainbows that descend from the heavens, even outright flowing right through the town like water.

Their train slowed down as it crosses a purple stone bridge and stopped right next to a tinny station. As soon as the side doors opened, Inverno rushed out into the crisp, cool mountain air. His ears picked up the simple sounds of chattering locals, the gentle roar of the falling rainbows where it was collected in ponds before flowing off a cliff. Even the buildings of shops, restaurants, offices, and homes were just as colorful as the rainbows with their steep roofs, bright colors, and individuality.

If anything, Inverno’s curiosity made him drew near the pond as two of the rainbows flowed directly into it, dispersing and mixing its colors. ‘I wonder what a rainbow tastes like.’ He wondered as he dipped a hoof into the multi-colored liquid.

“Woahwoahwoahwoah!” Shining came galloping over as he lit his horn to pick up Inverno away from the pond and getting the liquid off of Inverno. “Don’t do that!”

“Don’t do what? I was just going to taste it.”

“Inverno, trust me, I’m actually saving you here. You do know not to taste a rainbow that’s unfiltered, right?” The blank stares from his adopted son made him realized that he doesn’t. “Look, rainbows, especially when they haven’t gone through some filters are incredibly spicy. As in the ‘Ow my mouth’s on fire!’ kind. Trust me, I tried it once and ended up burning my mouth for a week.”

“Oh… sorry…”

Putting him down, Shining added. “No, it’s not your fault. At times I keep forgetting that you don't exactly know some basic things is all. Look, Inverno, I know the places we’re going to are mind-blowing to you, but you must stay close. Don’t touch or eat something without us saying so. And it goes without saying, don’t talk to anypony that you don’t know.”

Inverno gave his father a flat look, “Isn’t the point to ask around where these composers are?”

“Yes, but just let me and Professor Key do the talking.”

“Prince Armor,” the two of them turned to see Professor Key coming up to them, “I just asked the rail conductor and he said that there was a stole away in a boxcar just yesterday.”

“Did he mentioned what he looked like?” Shining questioned.

“Fortunately, yes. A male deer to be exact. Being in a town like this, he should stick out like a sore hoof.”





Hours later and neither Shining, Professor Key, nor any of the guards could find any trace of their mystery composer. Even when they’ve asked the locals if they’ve seen a deer, all it did was sent them on a wild goose chase that leads them in circles. What was frustrating, especially for Inverno, was that he wasn’t allowed to talk to anyone, even if it was to help out. Even when such an occasion did arise, he was cut off before he could get a word out. With each passing minute of asking locals and tourists, with every denied opportunity, Inverno became increasingly irritated.

Eventually, Shining heard alarm bells in his head as soon as he saw the glowing eyes of his adopted son that he excusing himself from the search party. The Prince took Inverno to get some ice cream in hopes to calm him down a little.

However, even after getting a few scoops, the colt’s growing anger didn’t fade.

“Why aren’t you letting me help?” Inverno questioned. “If you didn’t want me to help you out, then why bring me here at all?”

“Look, it’s not that you’re not helpful to us. It’s just that… this is the first time you’ve been outside of the Empire and you don’t exactly know your way around. I mean, this isn’t like the palace or the Crystal streets where it’s completely safe. Because I know for a fact that it’s not guaranteed out here. I’m just trying to protect you is all.”

“I’m fourteen now.”

“Says the colt that shattered everything he touches when he has a hissyfit like an infa-” Too late to realize what just came out of his mouth, he saw Inverno’s expression that gone from near angry to hurt when he said those words. “Inverno, I didn’t mean-” Before he could react, the colt instantly galloped off. “Wait! Inverno!”

But he ignored him as he galloped away. It didn’t matter to him where, as long as it was away from the one that said something so cruel and so careless. It hurt Inverno that Shining, someone that he had come to know as a father, would say that. To bring up that thing that has caused him much pain and grief. A subtle reminder of how thin that line was for him to cross to become something worse than Sombra.

Inverno was galloping blind, his eyes filled with bitter tears that he didn’t notice that he would trip into a sudden dipped that made him tumble over onto a plane of grass when he felt he rammed into something that tripped over him.

“Ow!” a male voice cried out, “Hey, what was that…” the words were trailed away when Inverno continued to cry on the grass. “Sorry uh… are you alright?”

Inverno cleared his blinding tears away to see the stranger that he accidently tripped over. It was a thin-looking creature, from its broomstick legs with solid black, cloven hooves, they were attached to a body that resembled a slender pony, with a pony neck that was connected to a concerned face. A face that was young but ancient at the same time where he had old green eyes and a white mane slick back. Inverno noticed that not only did he had glasses, but he had antlers on his head. Not very big, but noticeable. Within a heartbeat, Inverno instantly recognized that the face was one he took from a tourist.

“I didn’t hurt you, didn’t I?” The deer asked. “I’m very sorry, I honestly didn’t see you.”

“It’s uh…” Inverno sniffed. “It’s nothing.”

“But you’re not hurt, are you?” The colt shook his head. “Here, let me help you up.” The slender creature got up in which he assisted the unicorn as well. “I’ll ask again, are you alright?”

With a good guess of who this might be, Inverno shook his head. “I just… well, not really.”

“Oh, I’m sorry about that.”

The colt waved a hoof, “You’re fine, it’s… it’s stupid.”

“I have to disagree. Tears are not stupid. They simply tell us that something is wrong.”

Inverno looked around at the thinner patch of grass that was between an earthy slope and an endless drop with nothing but wild grass that grew on the plane. He asked the deer what he was doing here all by himself.

The deer sighed, “It’s a long story, but suffice to say that… I’m having some very bad days myself. And just needed some alone time. Trying to figure out some things,` you see.”

“Like what, mister…?”

At first, the slim creature hesitated, as if trying to weigh in if he should say his actual name. Eventually, he did. “Maneler. You can call me Mr. Maneler.”

Inverno knowingly nodded. “Okay, what kind of a bad day are you having, Mr. Maneler?”

The deer let out a melancholic sigh. “Oh… Where do I start? There was so much that has happened to these few days alone than I… I’m not sure where to begin.”

“Such as?”

Again, he hesitated. “Well… Let’s just say that I found out that some ponies that are very dear and near to me have… passed away.”

Inverno sniffed again. “You too?”

There was a pause between the two. “Sorry?”

“My father passed away about a year ago. So I… I think I get it. If anything, it’s kinda the reason why I ran into you. And sorry about that.”

“Why?”

“Inverno!” The unicorn froze as he heard Shining’s voice called out. “Inverno, where are you? I’m sorry, okay! I didn’t mean to say that! C’mon Inverno, come out!”

The colt could see the gears turning in the deer’s eyes. “Oh… I see… Someone you trusted said something hurtful, wasn’t it?” Feeling ashamed, Inverno looked down but nodded. “Are you ready to go back to whoever’s calling?”

“No… I don’t want to yet. It still hurts that he would say something like that so careless and…” Tears formed in his eyes once more.



Just then, Inverno’s ears picked up something unusual. It was clear and unmistakable. The sound of a piano being played. When Inverno looked up, he instantly saw that all around him, trees, wildflowers, and bushes sprung all around. It grew so quickly and so high that it blocked out the view of the nearby buildings and shaded them underneath a green canopy. In which he realized that this music was somehow coming directly from Maneler.

Even Maneler was confused at not only the music but even the sudden plant growth from around them. “What the… How…?” He touched the bark of a young tree before it shot upwards. “Am I doing this?”

“I think so… Are you seeing this?”

The deer nodded. Pointing his hoof down the thin patch of grass turned into a natural, dirt path with a growing forest spring up from either side. A thoughtful look came across his face. “Inverno, care to take a walk with me?”

So the colt walked beside the towering deer through the spontaneous nature walk on the side of the cliff. Maneler asked him what had happened to make him burst into tears. “It’s my new dad,” Inverno explained. “He brought up something painful about me. I know that he’s right, but the way he said it and so carelessly just…”

“He didn’t think of how you would feel I take it?”

Inverno shook his head. “First, he brings me out to supposedly help him but becomes so overprotective of me to the point that I can’t actually help, and now this… saying something that reminds me of Papa… It just… hurts…”

As the music played on, with more wild plants spring up from the ground around them, Maneler hummed. “The same Papa that passed away?” Inverno nodded. “Was he ever good to you?”

“Well, I thought so. I mean, he cared about me when he was alive. But after he died, I found out he wasn’t as good as I thought he was. Don’t get me wrong, my new dad has been trying to be a better father, but… I don’t know… Even after what I know about him, I still see him as my Papa. But now it’s… so confusing what I should think or feel.”

Maneler knowingly nodded, “You feel conflicted. I understand perfectly where you’re coming from.”

“How?”

“I know plenty about death, it has followed me all my life and taken away those I loved, again and again. From my talented brothers and sisters to even my own children. I held my daughter in my forelegs until she finally passed on. It’s painful that goes beyond description. Even with my own father’s death, who wasn’t all that good, I still cried, regardless of what he did.”

Inverno’s ears perked up as he dried his tears. “So… You know what’s it’s like too.”

Maneler shared a sad smile, “Yes… at least it's good to walk with someone that’s been on the same path as you are. I know what it is like to lose someone dear to you while the rest of the world sees them as nothing more than a monster. Trust me when I say this, I’ve been there.”

“But what if you have no one to walk down with? So to speak.”

“For that, I turn to the solitude of nature, walk paths just like this,” he waved a thin hoof around of the growing micro forest, “but the best way I find comfort is by creating music.”

“You too? I mean, for me it’s either that, improvising on an instrument or singing. Even when things get really bad, I turn to music like… as if it were a comforting friend. I don’t know if I could explain why or how though.”

Maneler nodded. “It is a funny thing, but when I too am making music, all the answers I seek for in life seem to be there, in the music itself. Or rather, I should say, when I am making music, there are no questions and no need for answers.”

“But still, what do I do now?” Inverno asked, “About my new dad I mean.”

“From what I heard, it sounds like he’s ready to apologize. As someone who has been around grown-ups, you just have to learn how to patient with them. They’re not always perfect, but the ones who are trying to always make the effort to do so. But even that may take time for them to catch on to what they ought to do. I know it can be frustrating, and speaking from personal experience, those like your new dad needs help from you too, regardless if they see it or not.”

“In other words, just go find dad.”

“Uh-huh,” Maneler nodded. “If he’s looking for you, that should say that he’s concerned enough. Take it as a sign of the love of someone that’s trying to mend what’s broken.” Suddenly, Inverno hugged his foreleg, and with a smile, he sat on his hunches to pat his head with the other. “I think that for you, it’s going to get better from here.”

Then just as the piano music ended and faded away, so too did the overgrown forest. As soon as the thick growth of trees were gone, there was a crowd of ponies that were taken aback that the forest that was growing on the edge of a cliff had faded away like mist. Among the said crowd, was Shining Armor.

“Inverno!” He hopped onto the plateau in which he embraced him. “Inverno, I’m so sorry for saying that. I didn’t mean to let it come out like that and…” Then he looked up at the deer with the glasses. “Uh… Inverno… Is this one of-”

“Dad,” the colt waved over to the deer, “this is my new friend, Mr. Maneler.”





About an hour later, the Crystal train was set off once again, this time with a new passenger. In the dining car, Shining and Professor Key Signature sat across the table from Maneler with a cup of tea between his hooves. “I just…” the professor began, “oh I can’t believe that I’m actually speaking to Maneler. Honest to Celestia Maneler. It’s so exciting really.”

“Oh, I’m just a composer, professor.” He said meekly.

“A brilliant one, if not groundbreaking at that.” Key retorted, “In fact, how did you do that?”

The deer tilted his head. “Do what?”

“He means that instant forest thing,” Shining said, “seriously, it just grew out of nowhere and it was so thick that even when someone tried to use an ax on a tree, it didn’t do anything other than breaking the ax. I mean, did you not hear all the commotion going on?”

Maneler looked at the prince confused. “What are you talking about? It was all completely quiet inside when I was talking to your son. Nothing at all except for-”

“Some piano music.” Shining interrupted. "That's all we've heard."

“It was one of your own compositions,” the Professor added, “I recognize the tune, ‘I Have Become Lost to the World’ a song of yours.”

Maneler blinked. “Yes, I know about it. But was the song all that you heard?”

“When all those trees suddenly spring up,” Shining explained, “we couldn’t see or hear anything going on inside except for that music that was loud and clear. In fact, the Professor here quickly figured out that it was you before any of us.”

“Yes…” Key hummed in thought. “It was as if your music was actually creating a sort of barrier between you, Inverno, and the rest of the world. Like casting up a literal sound bubble of sorts. So the one question we have is, how did you do it?”

Maneler was at loss for words for a minute. “I… I honestly don’t know. All I remember that I had this… strong urge to comfort your son, feeling so empathetic to his plight that… it just happened. All those trees that came, and the music I recalled, it was as if… it just needs to happen. I can’t explain it myself, but it just did.

“There is one question I have, for both of you. While you two were explaining what’s going on, you said I was one of those that your son brought to life. Tell me, does that mean that they’re others?”
> 5: Welcome to the New Age in E Major
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

In the sunny streets of Ponyville, two figures walked past the locals towards the marketplace. One was a red coat Pegasus stallion with a curly light orange mane who was eyeing the dark griffin carrying a beaten-up violin. The said griffon had the head and wings of a raven with the body of a black panther.

“Where did you get that violin from?” the pegasus questioned.

“Does it really matter at this point?” The griffon replied. “The only thing you need to know is that I got it. And this thing is gonna solve our homeless problem.”

“But where did you get it?”

“Trust me when I say that nopony is going to be missing it. Besides, I’ve already tested it out and it’s decent enough to play on. But it’ll be enough to rake up some bits.”

The red Pegasus didn’t say anything much on the matter, rather, he looked on at the foals that passed by them. “There’s so much… happiness here. Nopony is starving, these streets are safe - even at night, and there’s so much wealth about here than anyplace I’ve been to.”

“You would have been amazed in my time,” the griffon rolled his eyes. “With all the revolutions and factories popping up, I don’t think you’ve would have recognized anything there, Father.”

The Pegasus groaned, “I told you I didn’t earn the rank of-”

“But you’re a priest, aren’t you, Signor Vifilli?”

“Yes but…” he let out a frustrated sigh, “It’s complicated.”

“Hey, there’s no shame being a sinner either.” The griffon laughed, “I could recommend a few sins for you to try out, I’d think it might suit you better.”

Vifilli glared daggers at him. “Don’t think about it, Signor Paganeighni.”

“What? If we were given a second chance in life, we might as well enjoy it while we still have it. I mean just look around you, this is a paradise! There’s more food than ever before, more bits flowing about here, everypony is happy and there’re more mares to have fun with than a broth- OW!”

Paganeighni was cut off as Vifilli slapped him across the face with his wing. “If I may kindly remind you, there are foals running about.”

As he was rubbing his face, the ebony griffon raised an eyebrow. “And your point?”

“Regardless of where or when we are, the very least we could do is hold ourselves to a high standard. Much like how Our Lady would have done.”

“You do realize that I’m not a part of your Celestia cult…” Paganeighni grumbled.

“Oh for the love of…” Vifilli facehoofed. “How many times do I have to say this: it’s not a cult!”

“Ah yes, because a group of ponies that say they know how to get a better piece of the afterlife while asking for a daily fee to get in, isn’t one. You sure could have fooled me, Father.”

The ruby stallion’s eye twitched. “Just to be Celestia-like, I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that. But for now, what exactly is your plan?”

“Simple,” he held up the violin, “I play, they give us bits, then we eat. Play some more, flirt with a mare or two, and earn enough for a room or a dozen.”

“All that for being a street musician?” Vifilli raised an eyebrow.

“I didn’t earn my fortune a few centuries ago by praying for money to fall from the sky.” Paganeighni grinned as they entered the marketplace. “I always had to earn it in the here and now.”





Lights, noise, shiny signs, and fake coins. Here and there in this twisted version of Versailles, where the gold leaf and detailed murals hung above all with its enormous crystal chandeliers, there were many flashy mechanical games, gambling tables, and ponies that admired the passing entertainments. Regardless of how long he had been there, the Zebra could barely believe that in this city called Las Pegasus, that one of its great gambling houses was a caricature of the palace he once served.

“Roulette isn’t that difficult to manage.” The mare in a blue vest uniform explained in an uninterested tone. “Bets are all based on not only what color the ball lands on, but sometimes what number too. Now in our casino, players aren’t obviously allowed to place bets on the whole thing nor a majority of numbers on the table. So if they’re betting on color, they have to use only one or the other. But if on numbers, then don’t let them take up more than a third. And don’t let them bet any higher than a hundred thousand. Any questions?”

The Zebra shook his head, his curly black and white mane ruffled about. “It seems straightforward to me. So are there any rules of me at least talking to these players?”

“House rules say that you can, but always try to be friendly and professional. Obviously, don’t try to insult our guests nor make them uncomfortable as that is a huge no-no. So don’t ask them for really personal information or anything like that. However, if you suspect that there might be acting in a suspicious or threatening manner, there’s a button right underneath the table that’ll alert security. Any further questions?”

He shook his head, telling her that he understood.

“Although, before I let you start working Mister…?”

“Lully.” The Zebra said. “It’s Jean Baptiste Lully.”

“Right,” the mare nodded as she jotted down his name on a clipboard, “Mr. Lully, there is one thing I do want to ask you about. I know that you’ve already come here yesterday and all, but I’m a little curious about how you're able to get the job so fast.”

Lully tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

“Don’t get me wrong, I don’t exactly want to jump to conclusions here, but you got the job way sooner than any other employee here since I’ve been working here. Normally, Mr. Lucky doesn’t hire anypony for at least a couple of weeks, you know, job interviews, resumes and all that. But you’ve managed to do it in one day. How? Did you know the owner or…?”

The Zebra smirked. “As a born entertainer, I know how to please any audience I come across. Monsieur Luck just needed to know my qualifications in social skills, my loyalty to work for this establishment, and some…” He paused for a moment in which the mare could have sworn she saw a glint in his eye, “Persuasion. And like so, I have a job in which I won’t starve.”

“Right…” After jotting down some notes, she told him to flip a sign on his table to let the other guests know that he’s open. 

It didn’t take too long before a couple walked up to his table with a bag full of bits. One was a unicorn stallion that had a white coat, a dark suit with a blue mane with a monocle in his eye. The other was also a unicorn, just as pale but taller than he and with a flowing pink mane.

Lully put on an infectious grin, “Care to try your luck, Madame and Monsieur?”

“I take it you’ve just opened up?” The mare asked, and he nodded. “How about it,” she asked the stallion next to her, “let’s do a few rounds here.”

The stallion agreed as they approached the table. “How about this,” he opened up the bag with his magic in which he placed a few chips on the table, “I’ll put down fifty on the Odd number on black.”

“Even on red for me.” The mare placed down similar chips. “I take it that you must be new here?”

“Today is my first day on the job, Madame. And you are the first guest I’ve come across. Are you two new here?”

“Not at all,” the unicorn stallion said as he wrapped a hoof around the mare, “we have been to Las Pegasus a few times before. In terms of gambling, this is our personal favorite. Only this time around, we’ve come here for a happier reason.”

“And that being?”

“We just got married,” the mare explained, “and we’re spending our honeymoon here.”

“Ah! Congratulations you two!” He picked the little ball in his hoof. “Oh… I just realized that I don’t know to whom I’m speaking. You can call me Lully.”

“As in the flower?” He nodded. “In that case, I’m Fleur-de-Lis, and this handsome stud is my Fancy Pants.”

“Pleasure.” Lully nodded as he spun the wheel before tossing the ball in.

“I notice you have an accent.” Fancy pointed out, “It’s faint, but I could have sworn I heard a little bit of Istallion with that Prench.”

“You are not too far off, Monsieur Pants.” The Zebra replied. “I was born in Florence but later moved to Prance for better opportunities. You might say it’s by pure luck that I went from a begging street musician to a respected place in Prench society.”

“But why are you here?” Fleur inquired as the wheel was slowing down. "Prance is a far way off from Equestria."

“Let us say that a change in tempo was in order. A fresh start, a new life, and new ponies to encounter. Who knows, maybe my luck would once again bring good fortune.” The white ball bounced as the wheel slowed down until it settled on a number. “Number twelve, red. The Madame wins.”





Several miles out from Fillidelphia on the uneven waves of the sea, a dark green unicorn with a richly blue mane and goatee stared out to sea, admiring the living waters that bobbed the small ship about in its waves. Looking down from the crow’s nest, he watched as the ponies below tossed nets over into the abyssal blue.

“Don’t lean over too far.” The unicorn craned his neck over behind him as an elderly Pegasus flew up. “Last time that happened, a sailor ended up a year in the hospital. So it’s best if you watch your balance while we’re out here.”

“Sorry Captain, it’s been a long time since I’ve been out to sea.”

“No kidding.” The bearded captain then proceeded to land right next to him, sitting down. “Look, Mr. Debussy, I’m not trying to be hard on you, it’s just that the sea can be a dangerous place that, if you’re not careful, could cost you your life.”

“I understand Captain.” The unicorn nodded. “Still, I’m trying to rebuild what little of my life I have left and I thought that the best way to do it is by one of the things I love.”

The old captain sighed. “Son, did you wanted to join my crew? I mean, salvaging things from the bottom of the sea isn’t an easy life for anyone.”

“True. But… What could I say? I love the sea. Even as a colt, I’ve been drawn towards it. Even when I used to write music I come to sea towns to clear my head.”

“So what are you expecting to be looking for out here?”

Debussy shrugged. “Peace of mind. A purpose. Or something. With my daughter gone with… practically everything else, I’m trying to figure out where to go from here.”

This time, the expression of the Captain did change as his stern face gave way to sympathy and patted him on the back. “I can’t exactly say that I’ve lost everything too. For that, I’d be lying. But I remember what was like at your age when you’re trying to figure out what to do with your life. It is disorienting and probably would take you years at first, but once you’ve found what really matters to you, it’ll get easier. Not that it’ll all go away, but it will get easier to handle.”

“Captain!” A call was heard below them. “We’ve found some bottles and a broken mirror.”

“Don’t move, I’m coming down!” The captain called back. Before he left, he paused to look over his shoulder. “I’ll keep you on this crew, Mr. Debussy. But I must warn you, it’s not an easy life and not the ideal place to have a crisis about yourself.” With that, he flew back down towards the bow of the ship.
> 6: Maneler’s Questions in G# Minor
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Later that day, after the train continued past the Crystal Empire westward, Inverno made his way towards the caboose. Past the dining car, the staff and security barracks towards the very back where the other composers were meant to reside in. It was a long car that held twelve bunk beds, six on both sides as Inverno entered, and past it was a comfortable living room of a few couches, a table in the middle, books, scratch paper, and a baby grand in the corner. However, Inverno walked past that as he went to the very back where there was an observation balcony that looks out to the landscape that flies backward.

It was all encased in a see-through crystal, of course. The only pieces of furniture there were a couple of cushions and a tiny table. He found Maneler there, watching the fading outline of the Crystal Empire disappear before entering in a blizzard of dancing snow.

Inverno cleared his throat, “I uh… brought you something.” Using his magic, he set a cupcake of white frosting and rainbow sprinkles onto the little table. “I think you might like it. The chief from the dining car had given me a few but I couldn’t eat them all so I figured that you... might…” He trailed off when he noticed that the deer’s expression remained unchanged – emotionless even, as he gazes out at the waltzing snow. “Um… Never mind.”

Just as Inverno turned around and was about to open the sliding door, he stopped when he heard: “Why?”

The colt craned his neck over, Maneler still hasn’t moved. “Sorry?”

Taking in a deep breath, Maneler said: “Of all I’ve heard today, despite the answers that were given, my head is filled with so many questions.”

“Didn’t dad and Professor Key told you what’s going on?”

“They did. At least, they tried to. But since you, the one that’s responsible for all of this, for bringing me back from the dead when I honestly thought I might have died as a failure as an artist, a husband, a father, a composer… Yet, even knowing when I am and how I came back, the biggest question that keeps popping up is asking… why?” Finally, the deer looked at him square in the eyes, “Why did you bring me back? I never asked for this.”

Inverno rubbed his foreleg, eyeing the other cushion. “Could I sit down?” Maneler nodded in which the colt took a seat across from him. For a moment, the young unicorn hesitated as the resurrected composer waited for an answer. “Have you ever been lonely?”

The deer blinked. “What does that have got to do with anything?”

“Everything.” He replied. “So… have you?” To this, Maneler nodded. “I can guess that Dad and Professor Key have explained how I brought you and several others to life, but I haven’t exactly told them why. Or at least, not fully. Because one of the things you need to know about me is that for most of my life, I have been alone with no one but Papa to look after me.”

“I’ve been meaning to ask that. Who was he?”

“Have you heard of King Sombra?”

There was a very uncomfortable silence between them. “Sombra? As in… King of the Icy North Sombra? Enslaver of the Crystal Empire Sombra?”

In shame, Inverno folded his ears back and nodded. “Only… He lied to me. Papa told me that he was a good king and kept me in an apartment for most of my life because he said it was far too dangerous and was trying to protect me. So to pass the time, he taught me everything he knew about music. From copying songs to teaching me to play the organ, even composition. In fact, I knew how to write music before I could spell my own name. I think he wanted me to be the Kingdom’s greatest, most talented musical prodigy in all the land.”

Maneler’s jaw dropped. “You mean… You didn’t learn all of this by choice?”

“What choice did I had? If anything, I didn’t realize that I even had one. Back then, music was my whole world. I lived in it, breathed in it, even dreamed about it. However, when I was found and learned that Papa had died… it almost destroyed me. The only reason I had to live was the music itself. When Professor Key showed up, he introduced to me centuries worth of music that I never dreamed was possible…” He paused for a moment. “Did Dad tell you that I can see music?”

“I think he did mention it somewhat. What was that about?”

“You see, I have this ability whenever music is playing, I could see worlds with it. Where most of the time it would be as clear and detailed as you are seeing me now. If the music is detailed enough, I could see… what I think the creator had in mind when they wrote it. (At least, I think is what happens.) So in a way, whenever a piece plays, I get to explore the imaginations of those who long passed away. I know it sounds strange to you (as it does to everypony) but it’s the truth.”

“And you would be right. They said that apparently what happened earlier might have been a side effect of this resurrection thing. I didn’t understand it, but what you say might be true… Perhaps I might have projected what you see into reality. It makes me wonder what the others could do. But that still doesn’t explain why you chose me.”

“Well, when the professor recommends listening to some of the pieces you wrote, it… it was like meeting a comforting friend. An old one that has experienced much but isn’t bitter about it. That knows what I’ve been going through. So when I chose to resurrect you, I was hoping that maybe I could befriend you as your music did with me.”

Maneler looked at him astonished. “Do you mean that? My work meant that much to you?”

“Would I brought you back if I didn’t think so?” Inverno answered. “Looking back, I know what I did must be stupid and I might not think things through but… lately… I have no one that I could call a friend beside the Professor. Trust me, the foals that are my age are like from a different planet – I tried to connect with them for weeks, but it became clear that I was too different for them to be friends at all. This is why I decided to… literally, make friends.”

“So you brought me back from the dead all because you felt lonely?”

“Look, I know I’m in enough trouble as it is. But… What was I supposed to do? I honestly did try to make friends. But nopony would want me because of several things: who my Papa was, my love for music, my singing, my looks, I know I’m too different. And if you were me that you have been alone for as long as I have, entering into a new world but it doesn’t want anything to do with you, wouldn’t you do anything to have friends if you were me?”

Another silence as Maneler looked at his cloven hoof. “Alright, I think I understand that. But… Why am I a deer?”

“Well, when I was trying to get the physical samples that the ritual required, I went out in public to where the tourists usually come. I’ve spent the whole day trying to find those that closely resembled all of you as possible. The deer that I chose, for example, I picked him because his face almost looked like yours. And the eyes too were like your picture as well. Besides, it’s not just you, I did the same to the rest as I looked for the closest resemblance as I could. Sure, I couldn’t find an exact copy or get my hooves on anything that was from your actual body. Because either something like that is in a museum or lost to time. So I had to substitute for the next best thing.”

Inverno asked if there was anything else. “Just two more essential questions,” Maneler said. “First, is this permanent? You didn’t make me immortal or anything, did you?”

The unicorn shook his head. “I don’t think so. Otherwise, why would the ritual have instructions to reverse it if I wanted to?”

“Huh… It makes me wonder if your father would demand of you to do so when the time comes…” Taking in another deep breath, he further asked his last question. “Where are we going to now?”

“As far as I know? Dad said that the next place is another town called Sire's Hollow.”

Maneler went wide-eyed when he said that. “What did you say?”

“Sire's Hollow. That’s where we’re going next. Why? Have you been there?”

“I haven’t been there since…” He shook his head. “That’s a personal matter.”

“Why?”

Maneler didn’t respond, instead, he returned his attention to the blizzard outside. “For now… I don’t want to talk about it.”

“But will you tell me?”

Maneler frowned, the moment he looked at him again, there was an icy chill that shook Inverno from the cold look he gave him. “Not. Right. Now.”

The colt wisely decided that it was best to leave him as he scampered through the sliding door. After Inverno was out of sight and blurred away through the crystalline walls, Maneler’s eyes fell upon the cupcake that was left behind, eyes filling up with tears. Placing his black, cloven hooves over his face, he wept with no one around except the ghosts in the falling snow.





There was something timeless with sunsets. No matter how many he had seen them, Schubit could never be tired of them. If anything, what he was seeing was something out of a painting. Below was the town of Sire's Hallow they were just lighting their street-lamps while their windows were already aglow. Above, a semi-clear, orange twilight sky with purple clouds drifting in a breeze. Between the brilliant lit sky and the dark mountains, he watched as Celestia, even after all these years, performed the same duty to lower the brilliant white sun as a mother would set her foal into a cradle.

Sitting on a boulder, Schubet let the stillness of the moment drown him in its tranquility. With the exception of adjusting his glasses, he didn’t let a thought, a word, or a melody come to his mind other than to bask in the last rays of the sun. Or, at least he would if it weren’t for a subtle sound that made his ears stand straight up.

“I see you’ve found Maneler’s rock.” A stallion’s voice said behind him. “I didn’t think you would go out this far out, I was starting to get worried about you.”

Schubet didn’t have to turn around to see who was climbing up to the boulder with him. He grunted. “Can I at least have this moment of peace, Mr. Firelight?”

“I was just wanted to give you the good news was all. That the bookstore is considering hiring you and would like to interview you tomorrow. But I couldn’t exactly tell you that if I didn’t know where you’ve gone to.”

“Forgive me if I happened to have a lot on my mind and turned to the one thing that brings things into perspective.”

“But going on nature walks? Not that there’s anything wrong, but this far out? I almost came close to calling out for a rescue party.”

Schubit now turned his head over to the purple unicorn stallion with the turquoise mane. While he figured out that he was in the future, there was a comforting thought to the composer that at least some style of clothing didn’t go completely out of fashion from Firelight’s high collar to his waistcoat.

“Is that so? All of this for a mere nopony?”

“I’m just doing this to be kind is all. You needed help and I thought I’d lend you a hoof. Besides, it also helped that you know a thing or two of antiques.”

Schubit couldn’t help but roll his eyes at that word. While he quickly figured out that he was centuries from the year 828, there was something… disgusting about calling all the things he knew about as "antiques." Objects that were used commonly for everyday things were now considered collectors’ items when he couldn’t see anything past their practical value.

“I told you Mr. Firelight, I needed the spectacles to see and while I’m still grateful for getting these for me, you don’t need to follow me around. You’re generous in giving me food, a room, and possibly a job, but I think you’ve already gone above and beyond in helping me.”

“Yes, but could you blame me when you knew so much about our town’s past? As a local historian, you seemed to know quite a bit of what life was like in the early ninth century. Something that there’s not much on anyway. That, and you have similarities to one of our town’s most famous residences.”

The composer scoffed, “I’d say two years is a little too short for being considered a resident.”

“But that’s exactly my point!” Fireside said. “I mean, you have some resemblance to Franz Schubit, and have knowledge of him as well that I didn’t know about. Please forgive me for getting on your case, but you’re just an enigma to me. Considering that he’s not that well known, how do you know all of these facts about him?”

“Um…” Schubit turned his gaze away as his mind was scrounging for a lie that would make a plausible answer. “He was my… great, great, great, grand uncle. I have an ancestor that was a brother of the composer.”

“Huh,” Firelight blinked, “I didn’t know he had a brother.”

“Well, I-my grand-uncle had three older brothers and a sister before him and my family falls into the oldest brother.”

“That makes sense. But how do you know so much about Franz though?”

Schubit rubbed the back of his neck. “We have… family stories about him.”

“Any of them relating to the town?”

He nodded, “I know a few here and there.”

“This is wonderful!” Fireside grinned. “You must tell me so I can write it down for my books.”

The composer raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“Well, I’m collecting stories about our town’s history and I want to get it as detailed as possible for my passion project of mine.”

“Do you have anything better to do?” Schubit raised an eyebrow. “Is there a life outside of antiques and history that you could be pestering over? I mean, do you have a wife or children that might be wondering where you are?”

This time he saw a change in Firelight’s expression. “No… At least… Not anymore.”

“What do you mean?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Lately, family life hasn’t been that great. My wife divorced me some time ago and my daughter… I don’t even know where she is.”

This caught Schubit’s attention. “Oh… apologies, I didn’t know.”

He waved a hoof. “You’re fine. Since I don’t have much of a family anymore I focus my time elsewhere. Besides, my wife and I… We knew that it wouldn’t last. And Starlight… I just… I hope she’s safe somewhere.”

“Was she foalnapped?”

Starlight shook his head. “Ran away more like it. The last time I saw her, we had a fight, and the next day, she left a note saying not to expect me to see her again. I tied to get the police to figure out where she could possibly have gone to. But…” He lifted his forelegs before letting them fall limp. “Nothing. No traces, no clues, no sightings, absolutely nothing at all. I don’t know if she’s alright. If she’s in a different country. Or…” He shook his head. “I don’t think of the worst that might have happened to her. I just wish I knew that she’s okay somewhere.”

Schubit fell silent for a long time as the sun now fully sank behind the mountains. “I wish I could say something. But I’m afraid I don’t have an answer for something like that. You have a different kind of heartache that I have no experience in. So hopefully you might understand why I couldn’t help, as much as I wanted to.”

“I can take care of myself,” Firelight replied. “Time won’t make all the pain go away, but it does make it easier.”

“More so in this place.” Schubit nodded. “It’s comforting to know that while the world may change, at least the beauty of this valley has not.”

“I see what you mean.” Firelight smiled. “It’s one of the things I love about this town, is that for the most part, it has a charm that is timeless. But for now, I’m gonna head back home. And you should be too.” He said as he stood up. “The forests around here can get pretty confusing after dark, so it’s best to start heading down while there’s enough light to do so.”

Schubit returned his gaze over the lingering shadows of the mountains. “You can go on ahead. I’ll retire to bed soon. But for now, let me enjoy the moment.”

“Okay, just don’t stay out for too long.”

The unicorn waited until the hoofsteps of the other faded into the forest. He sat there watching as the sky rolled back from its warm colors of orange give way to deep blue as stars began to dot the sky. In that solitude, he didn’t dare leave until the full moon illuminated the world in blue. He made a mental note to possibly do a sketch of this moment for the piano one day.
> 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.
> 8: Encounter of the Erlking in Bb Minor
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The first thing that Inverno noticed as the Crystal Train slowed down that afternoon was the rolling hills and their forests. He noted that unlike Rainbow Falls, the mountains and hills of Sire’s Hollow weren’t sharp and jagged, but were smooth but had round bulges that surrounded a valley. The second thing he noticed was the station platform was smaller than the one in Rainbow Falls. The only thing there was a wooden platform and a small booth with windows on all sides. The final thing he noticed was the town itself. While not as big as the previous one, the architecture was significantly different. All the roofs were red and many of them were pointy, while all the mason work was made out of white stone.

“I think it stands to reason that we should investigate where Schubit’s previous residence might be.” Professor Key suggested as he stepped onto the tiny platform. “I figured that if he’s here, he would go to where he used to live as he once lived in this town."

“Otherwise we should still ask around, regardless of who is here.” Shining Armor said as he helped Inverno out. “This place doesn’t look like it gets a lot of tourists, so it might be easier to ask the locals to see if they’ve seen anypony new. And this time,” he patted the colt’s head, “we’re taking you along to actively help. But still, stay close to me, okay?”

“Excuse me.” The three of them turned around as Maneler stepped out, along with a Crystal Guard following close by. “Do any of you happen to know where a flower shop might be?”

The Prince shrugged. “I don’t really know this place too well. Just keep in mind, the town might be different from the one you remembered it. So, if I were you, I’d probably ask where one is. Oh, and Defense?” The Crystal Guard stood at attention. “Don’t let Maneler leave your sight. While he’s free to go do whatever he needs to do, make sure that we all leave together by the time we find our next guy.”

Defense saluted. As he did so, the rest of the tiny regiment filed in a line as soon as they got off the train. Shining went up to them and said, “As for the rest of you, we should split up and ask the locals if they’ve seen anypony that’s out of place. If you think you’ve found anything worth noting, report it to me immediately. Just remember, the goal is not to spook him, but simply to retrieve our mystery pony. We do not want to cause alarm to the locals or the next composer that’s here. Dismissed.” With a unified salute, the Crystal Guards turned towards the dirt path into the town, marching towards it.

“How soon do you think you might find… whoever it is?” Maneler inquired.

“That depends,” Shining answered. “Perhaps half-an-hour, or maybe the whole day. For now, we just need to know who is here and where. But I think it should give you plenty of time for yourself.”

“Thank you, Your Highness.” The deer nodded, “Now if you excuse me, I have a personal matter to deal with.” He then turned towards Sire’s Hollow itself and remarked to himself, “It’s funny how little this place has changed on the outside…”

Shining, Key and Inverno began to make their way down the dirt road while taking notice of the construction of a stone wall in progress at the town’s borders. “Do you think he’s going to be okay?” Inverno asked.

“Who? Maneler?” The Professor questioned. “I think he will be. It’s something that only he has to deal with. You don’t try to help someone who recently has experienced a tragedy on this level, it’s only something that Maneler has to work with.”

“Why not?”

“Inverno,” Shining began cautiously, “do you remember what you were like when you found out that your Papa wasn’t around anymore?”

He did. The colt remembered the very day he learned from him and Cadence that Sombra was dead. He recalled the anger, as well as the extreme sadness that followed. Where he spent days alone in a bedroom crying for hours, that not even the happiest tunes he could think of helped dull the heartache to make it go away. How he didn’t want to speak or hear or see anyone, as he knew they couldn’t do anything.

“But… Will he be okay?” Inverno asked.

“Maneler is much stronger than he looks.” The Professor told him. “He has dwelt with death before, you must trust him that he will be alright.”

The young unicorn only nodded. “For his sake, I hope so.” He said sighing.





They quickly found that the only thing left of Schubit’s old home was a plaque in a park. While the Professor separated, he told Inverno and Shining that he was going to see if he could find any clues as to whoever was in Sire’s Hollow. In the meantime, both the Prince and Inverno should ask around to see if the locals spotted anyone out of the ordinary.

Fortunately for them, there was a sighting of someone new in the town. From what reports they could gather, the stranger was a brown, pudgy unicorn that could barely see. The cashier from a small antique shop said that the stallion came into the shop and tried on a pair of old bifocals that surprisingly worked enough for him to see. Those said glasses were bought on behalf of an acquaintance name Firelight.

After some time, Inverno and Shining walked up to the house to knock on the door.

“Just a minute.” A voice called out from behind the front door. Moments later and a few jiggles from the doorknob, the door opened to a purple unicorn stallion. “Yes? Can I help… you…?” His words trailed off, blinking.

“Are you Mr. Firelight?” Inverno asked.

“Y-Yes?” He answered, giving an uncomfortable look as he saw the colt’s eyes before quickly turning to the Prince. “Are you-”

“Call me Shining Armor.” He held up a hoof to him in which he shook. “I know this is unexpected for you.”

“Well, that’s an understatement.” Firelight chuckled nervously. “I honestly didn’t expect to see a Prince on my doorstep. So, uh… Do you want to come in or…?”

“Actually, we were hoping you could help us.”

“In what way?”

“Has anypony new came in recently?” Inverno asked. “A pudgy looking unicorn that probably needs glasses?”

“What? You mean Schubit?”

Both Shining and Inverno’s ears perked up. “You mean you’ve seen him?” The colt asked.

“Before I answer,” Firelight lifted a hoof. “What’s going on? Is he in trouble?”

“Well…” Shining rubbed the back of his neck. “Long story short, my son here had cast a forbidden spell, and we’re trying to see if it can be reversed. Your new friend is one of them. He’s not in trouble per-say, we’re just trying to collect him so he’s kept out of harm’s way.”

“Oh… Well, the one I know is said to be a descendent of Franz Schubit, and that he’s trying to get his life back together. Of course, I’ve helped him out with getting some glasses, a hotel room, and even a morning job at the bookstore.” 

"Well that's great, but do you know where he is now?"

“I’ve noticed he tends to go on long nature walks at noon, so he might be on one of the nearby hiking trails. The last time I saw him, he was heading southward."

“Thank you, sir.” Shining shook the unicorn’s hoof. “That’s all we needed to know. Your help is appreciated.”

Inverno too offered up his hoof, but instead, Firelight retreated back into his home and closed the door. After they left the house, the colt looked up to his adopted parent, “Do you think he doesn’t like me?”

“What makes you say that?”

“He seems kind of… uncomfortable when I was talking to him. If anything, I noticed he didn’t look at me in the eye much. Did I do something wrong?”

“No, it’s not really your fault.”

"So how come that pony didn't want to be around me?"

"I... don't think it's just you, it's just..."

"It's just what?"

Shining took a deep breath, "Well... Don't take this the wrong way, but maybe it's because that not everypony has red eyes."

“Oh…” Inverno’s ears folded back. “It’s because they remind ponies of Papa, isn’t it?”

Shining stopped. After a sigh, he rubbed his son’s head. “Kid, I’m not going to lie, there will be ponies out there that will be unnerved by you. Not many ponies have the kind of eyes you do and not everyone is used to seeing them. But I know it’s unfair, especially to you. Really you don't deserve this. But the sad truth is, there will be ponies that will judge you on your appearance without getting to know you. It’s times like that you must be patient with them, and don’t get yourself down for being different.”

“But it’s still frustrating.”

“I know. But the mature thing is to not lash out at those that offended or hurt you. There’s an old saying that the definition of being mature is to know what should be restrained. If anything… That’s the definition of being an adult, not to suppress what you feel, but to know when to keep it under control without hurting anyone. I think you’re already on your way to becoming one, even if you don’t see it.”

Inverno nuzzled him. “Thanks, dad. So, what do we do now?”

Shining tells him that the next step is to find out which nature path that Schubit might have gone on to see if they could find him. Minutes later, the Crystal Guard reports the latest sighting of him was from the bookstore owner who said that he was planning a walk on the Southern trail. Confirming what Firelight had told them.

By the time Shining had gathered the Crystal Guard, the Professor came to them with a newspaper. “On the way back,” the Professor said as he lifted the newspaper, “look at what I’ve found in the news.”

“What is it?” Shining asked as he took the paper into his aura. Inverno looked up as he saw a picture of a street that has ice and snow while police ponies hoofcuff two-legged mice creatures in uniform.

The headline read: Applewood Street Experiences Blizzard. Mice Soldiers Taken in by Police.

“Mice soldiers?” Shining asked the Professor in confusion.

“I think that they might be the same ones from the Nutcracker ballet. If that is true, then it may stand to reason that Tchaicoltsky might be in Applewood.”

After folding the newspaper up, he told the professor: “Hang on to that. For now, we need to receive Schubit.”





Schubit stared at the blank piece of paper at his hoof. At this time of day, his mind would have come up with something – anything to jot down a new melody. But as he sat underneath a towering oak, his creativity was distracted by memories. With a frustrated sigh, he tossed the crumpled-up paper on the grass, watching the wind making it tumble.

“Oh Prose, I wish you were here.” He grumbled as his thoughts towards the last time he saw him.

He remembered that winter of 815, when the country had become paranoid of revolution, even with the fall of Neighpoleon. Even in the city of Whienna, he recalled seeing more armored guards in the streets than ever before. It was a time when large gatherings were suppressed, and censorship reigned over the city. But even in this oppressive atmosphere, Schubit recalled how his small group of friends try to make the most of it.

“You know that this won’t last forever.” The memory he called was a few weeks before Hearths Warming at the house of Meter Prose. He recalled the Pegasus with a mane that seemed to be spun from gold, a coat of charcoal black, and never seen outside of a dinner jacket. “One of these days, all of this will pass over. We’ll go back with our lives and then thank Celestia that we can at least think again.”

Schubit recalled the handsome face of Prose, as he saw his reflection from the window, holding a glass of wine in his hoof. “I hope so,” he said to him, “things are already looking grim enough that I wonder if it’s wiser to leave the country for someplace else?”

“Like where? Equestria?”

“Why not?” The composer stood up, walking away from the window. “The last thing I wanted to do is to be in trouble in a place as strict as this.”

“And leave me behind?” Prose went up to him, messing up his curly mane with a wing. “What would us poets do without you, Little Mushroom? You’re the only one that’s reliable enough to take commissions. Even old Beethooven isn’t nearly as steadfast as you are.”

“Stop.” While he pushed away from the wing, he looked up at him with a smirk. “Commission or not, I’d do it for my friends anyway. Sure, the money is helpful, but not always necessary.”

“Besides,” Prose said, kissing his cheek, “You know I like having you around. You’re the only one I know that can do any of my poems justice.”

Schubit blushed. “I’ve only done two so far.”

“But I’m serious. You have a rare gift. And I’m just the one to get you rightfully into the spotlight. But even if you didn’t compose, it would still break my heart if you left. I never met anyone like you, Little Mushroom.” He held up his glass. “To a revolution in music, with our local composers paving the way.”

Schubit recalled picking up a glass of wine as well. “And to you, the next immortal poet.”

But before either could drink their toasts, there were three, sharp knocks on the front door. What happened next happened so quickly, and so shocking was the unexpected entrance of these guards, that Schubit barely had time to process what was happening. Before he realized what had happened, guards raided into the house, ceasing Prose while another guard pushed Schubit aside.

“Meter Prose,” he heard one of them say, “You're under arrest.”

“What?!” His friend struggled as they put chains around him. “What for?!”

“For revolutionary activities and writing to spread treasonous propaganda.” He then turned to a few other guards. “Search for evidence upstairs.”

While they went through the house, ransacking the bedrooms upstairs. Schubit tried to get up but a hoof pinned him down. “Don’t interfere with an arrest.” The guard on top of him warned. “Or we’ll have to arrest you too. This would be easy if you cooperate.”

Schubit laid on the floor paralyzed in dreading fear. A few minutes later, the other guards returned with papers before dragging out Prose into the night. Before he left, the composer heard him say before the sound of something hard kicking him say: “Neighpolean would have been proud.”

The sound of heavy hoofsteps snapped Schubit back into reality. With his ears perking and sitting straight up, he scanned the forest to see where it was coming from. There down the dirt trail between the spaces of the trees, he caught the glimmering glimpses of armor. With every collective step they took, the composer felt an increasing dread that was coming towards him.

The first ones to approach him was a colt with cat-like eyes, a white unicorn in armor, and an old earth pony. The unicorn stopped, waving a hoof to both of them as if to tell them to stay put before he approached him. “Are you Schubit?”

He immediately got up. “Who are you? What do you want?”

“I’m Shining Armor, and the ponies behind me are the Crystal Guard. We want you to come peacefully with us.”

Shining could see the unicorn’s face being drained of his color. “W-Why?”

“Everything will be explained.” He offered him his hoof. “Just come along with us.”

Schubit however, stepped backward. His expression becoming ever more fearful. “What do you want from me?”



“We just want you to come with us. This would be easy if you cooperate.” Yet, the Prince could see the pudgy unicorn becoming hyperventilating as his breaths were becoming faster. “Sir, you need to calm down.”

“N-No.” He shook his head. “No. I don’t want to.”

“Sir.”

“Leave me alone.” Schubit took several steps back. “Please, not again.”

Shining lit his horn. “Sir, we don’t want to hurt you. I promise we’ll explain everything. Just calm-”

“I won’t let you!” Three things happened at once. First was that the pudgy unicorn suddenly turned towards the other end of the trail in a full gallop. The second, was the sky itself became dark where the forest suddenly turned gloomy with a creepy fog. And the third was the distinct sound of a piano being played at maddening speed, but as Inverno quickly saw, it was of something very dark.

“Oh, Goddesses…” The Professor paled as he too heard it.

Shining flipped his son onto his back. “C’mon, we can’t let him get away! Hold on to my neck and don’t let go!” And with that, the Prince went into a gallop after him.

“My Prince! Stop!” Professor Key shouted in desperation. But Shining ignored the warning and went after Schubit into the fog.

“Dad…?” Inverno asked as he wrapped his forelegs around Shining. “What’s going on? I really don’t like this.”

“We’re gonna get ‘em, don’t let go!” And with his son hugging his neck for dear life, Shining lit his horn as he eyed the pudgy unicorn ahead of him through the dark and foggy woods while the piano music still echoed.

As Inverno held on, his eyes turned towards the forest, at the shadows of trees that they swiftly passed by. His heart stopped as there in the darkness he spotted a pair of glowing, red, catlike eyes. In the dim light, it had a thorny crown of sticks and bark. The colt let out a sharp gasp as he buried his face in fear.

“Inverno, are you alright?” Shining asked as he leaped over a log.

“Dad, he’s here! Papa is here! Wearing the crown and everything!”

Shining took a brief moment to look around. “I don’t see anything, maybe this fog is playing tricks on you. This has to be an illusion, don’t pay attention to it.”

As much as he tried to close his eyes, he heard a whisper in his ear of a low but familiar voice. One that he knew all of his life saying. “Come with me boy. Come play with me. My kingdom’s pleasures for you to see. Ripe are the flowers and wear golden robes. Take my hoof there and off we will go.”

“Dad! Dad!” Inverno cried out as he tried to look at the source of the sound. “Didn’t you hear what Papa whispered just now?”

“It must be the music,” Shining said as he turned a corner, “I think it’s playing on your fears. Don’t pay attention to it, just tell yourself it isn’t real.”

Yet, even as Inverno opens his eyes, he saw Sombra’s shadow weaving effortlessly through the trees just nearby them. “You will reveal tonight if you come away,” he hears him saying, “I’ll summon my slaves for you to play, they’ll frolic and dance and play for thee. They’ll hush and whisper and sing you to sleep. Oh, they’ll hush and whisper and sing you to sleep.”

Shining could feel his son’s heart pounding. “Dad! Dad! Don’t you see him trotting there?!”

Even when Shining looked, he still couldn’t see anyone. “Inverno, stay calm, once we get him, this nightmare will end.” He said as he galloped faster, getting closer to Schubit.

However, as frightened as Inverno was, he heard Sombra whispered in his ear. “I love thee your presence nourishes my soul. And if you’re unwilling, I’m forcing you to go!” He felt an icy, dead hoof grabbing him, thus he grabbed tighter around Shining’s neck.

“Dad! Help me! Papa is hurting me! Dad help me I can't brea-”

Suddenly, Inverno’s tight grip had loosened. The prince, in a state of panic, put a bubble shield around him before he could fall off his back. But still, he went into a full gallop as the music all-around came to a climactic point, yet he wasn’t able to catch up with him.

They then came to the end of the trail where the town was in sight, but as it was so dark, their lights were on. Even the street lamps were lit. “Ha! Now we’ve got him cornered! We did it Inverno!” But when there was no response, "Inverno?" he slowed down to a halt, taking notice that the colt wasn’t moving.

“Son?” He let the little unicorn out of the bubble, only to fall limp in his forelegs. Shining felt his heart stop in shock as he wasn’t moving or breathing. If anything, he felt cold to the touch. “Inverno!” Shining screamed as the piano music played out two final cords, lifting the darkness overhead.

Schubit, completely out of breath, looked over to the source of the screaming. His eyes went wide. “Oh, Goddess!” He limped dragged himself over. “What… happened?”

Before he could react, he felt something choking his neck and was flung to the ground. The next thing he knew, Schubit was looking up at Shining with pure rage in his eyes. “What did you do!?” he screamed at him. “Talk, you murderer!”

“I-I-I don’t know!” He said trembling. “I don’t know what just happened! I was scared and-”

“You took away my boy!” Shining yelled as his horn glowed brightly.

“Please! I didn’t do it!” Schubit pleaded. “This never happened to me before, I swear! Please don’t hurt-”

The two of them paused as they heard a deep gasp as they looked over, to see Inverno trying to get up. “D-Dad…” he said weakly.

Upon instinct, Shining rushed over to embraced him in a hug. “Oh Goddesses, Inverno! I thought I’ve lost you.”

“Dad… I saw-”

His father shushed him. “It’s gonna be okay. I’m here now.” The sound of galloping, armored hooves caught his ear as the Crystal Guards and the Professor caught on to him. Turning to Schubit, casting a dark look at him he said, “Arrest him immediately!”

“Please, I beg you.” Schubit pleaded. “It wasn’t me, I swear! I didn’t mean to.” But guards rushed over to put hoofcuffs on him to be carried off to the train.

“My Prince,” Professor Key asked as soon as he got his breath back, “what happened?”

Picking up Inverno, he said, “Now isn’t a good time, Professor. Go get Maneler, tell him we’re leaving.”

“But what did he do?”

Putting his adopted son on his back, he said to him, “He almost killed Inverno.”





One frightened, chained up unicorn looked at a furious Prince with the Prince sitting beside him. In the dining car, Schubit’s hind hooves were hoofcuffed to the metal pole that upheld the table, as well as his forehooves that too were bound. Beside him were Crystal Guards standing at attention with spears and glaring looks.

“I swear upon my own life that wasn’t intentional,” Schubit said. “I got so scared that suddenly everything went dark and the Erlking was playing loudly that I had no idea what was going on. I don’t know if it was some sort of magic or not, but I swear to Celestia that I didn’t mean it to happen.”

“Are you sure about that?” Shining questioned, his forelegs still folded.

“How many times do I have to repeat myself! I’m telling you the truth! I didn’t know that I could do that. It was an accident! If anything, I’m just as shocked as you are.”

“But why did you run?” The prince leaned forward. “I meant it when I said that we’re not here to hurt you, but why did you suddenly just run off and then nearly scared my son to death?”

Schubit buried his face in his hooves and sighed heavily. “For the same motivation, I had when I wrote The Erlking… After I saw, Meter Prose, someone I… cherished… a poet who helped me… I saw him being arrested by the police, while they raided his home.”

There was an awkward moment in which Professor Key facehoofed. “Oh Celestia, I completely forgot,” Shining asked what he was talking about. “In 815, when Whienna was turned into a police state, Schubit developed a fear for ponies in uniform after witnessing a friend of his, Meter Prose being arrested. He never saw him again. Sweet Luna, I’ve completely forgotten all about it. And it is been said that he composed The Erlking shortly after the incident. It makes sense now.”

“But I don’t understand why all of that happened to begin with,” Schubit said. “Why did the sky turn dark? Where did all the fog come from? And why was Inverno almost scared to death?”

“I think…” The Professor mused over as he looked at the newspaper he got from the village. “I’m begging to see how this works.”

“What?” Shining inquired. “This whole magic thing?”

“It says in this article that witnesses in Applewood heard Tchaicoltsky’s music that was interrupted. But remember the other day with Maneler that mini-forest only disappeared after he let the music finish?” Shining nodded. “What if they have a type of magic that is triggered by an emotional response, that they involuntarily cast a spell? As long as they let them play it out, everything should restore back to normal.”

“But if at any time someone made them stop the music mid-way,” Shining said, thinking aloud, “then that spell will still be there. So, if I had made Schubit stop playing his music while I was chasing him, then Inverno would have…” He trailed off, as he couldn’t bear expressing the dark thought of what could have been.

The Prince lit his horn, and let the hoofcuffs become loose in which Schubit was able to slip out of. As he was rubbing his hooves, Shining pulled him by the collar where they were face to face. “I want you to listen to me, buddy.” The Prince growled. “I don’t care who you are or what you can do. I’m gonna let this slide just this once, but I warn you, if you try to pull that stunt again and Inverno ends up not breathing... Don’t expect mercy from me. If you try to kill my son, then I will hunt you into the night. Are we clear?”

Gulping, Schubit nodded.

After he let him go, Shining got up saying that he’s going to go check up on Inverno while the Professor excused himself. Schubit, however, was left alone, shaking.
> 9: Comfort in Ab Major
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Shining Armor pulled the sliding doors to hop into their car, seeing Inverno right where he left him. The colt had indeed calmed down enough from his crying earlier, but Inverno was still wrapped in blankets like a cocoon with only his face sticking out. With a sigh, Shining walked over and sat next to him.

“Are you okay?” He asks and Inverno shook his head. “You know that I’m still here for you.”

“I wish mom was here.” His son muttered.

“Yeah… so do I.” His dad nodded. “Cade is better with things like this more than I do. Then again… I don’t know what anyone else could say after a scare like that.” Shining sighed. “I was scared of losing you.”

Inverno placed a hoof on his. “Me too.”

Shining nuzzled him. “Are you sure I can’t get you anything?”

His son shook his head. The Prince got up and was about to leave when the colt asked, “Are you sure you didn’t see him?”

He paused as he looked back at him. “I didn’t. Maybe something was and I just didn’t notice. It could have been an illusion that was only affecting you.”

“But dad,” Inverno sat up, “I saw him. I saw Papa and heard him about… wanting me back. I mean, I know the truth about him and what he did. But to see him again… How is it that the pony I’ve known all my life could suddenly turn into my biggest fear? I mean…” He trailed off as he flopped back onto the bed.

“I take it that you feel conflicted?” His father asked.

“I don’t know if it was because of Schubit’s magic or how terrifying everything was… I was afraid dad… so afraid…”

Shining followed his fatherly instincts as he went over to hug him. “You know that I can’t promise to protect you from everything, but as your dad, I’m willing to throw my life down if it means keeping you safe. Inverno, if you want to go home now, I’ll tell the engineer-”

“No,” Inverno said. “I can’t go home yet.”

“But you almost died.”

He looked up in his father’s eyes and said, “If there is anything I’ve learned from you and mom, is that for whatever I’ve done, it should be up to me to take up whatever responsibility I’ve caused. I was the one that made this mess, and it’ll be me that will have to clean it up. I’m not going home until every composer I’ve unleashed is back in one place. If I could write up an apology symphony for the Crystal Ponies, then I will find them. But at the same time, I know I can’t do this alone.”

Shining rubbed his head. “You really are growing up. But just so you know, that if any of this gets too intense, just say the word, and I will send you home.” 

Sniffing, Inverno asked, "So where are we going to now?"

“Before we turn south, our next stop is a coastal city west of us. It’s called Vanhoover, and it’ll be a much bigger place than our last two stops, so tracking our next guy is gonna get tricky.”

“Why’s that?”

“Well… being a city, there’s obviously gonna be a whole lot more ponies, which more than likely means we'll be staying there for a few days. Perhaps less if we’re lucky. And to make things worse, I’ve never been there so… I have no idea what to expect.”

“I never saw anything outside of the Crystal Empire,” Inverno said. “And I can’t wait to see more. But…”

“What?”

The colt glanced down towards the lower end of the train. “What about Schubit?”

“I’ve talked to him and he swears that what had happened was truly an accident. However, we think we have an idea about how this whole music-magic thing works. So… There’s something at least.”

“And Maneler? I mean… did he found what he was looking for?”

His father shrugged. “I… I honestly have no idea. Since I’ve ordered everyone to get back on the train, I didn’t think about that. All I know is that he’s back on board.”





Meanwhile on the other end of the train, Professor Key Signature entered inside the caboose where he found Maneler at the piano, playing a melancholic, slow but ambient adagio where the strings sang a prayer in its lower notes. The deer didn’t notice the old stallion entering as he kept on playing. It wasn’t until that the Professor cleared his throat that he ceased playing and craned his head around.

“I’d thought you like to know that the colt is going to be alright.”

“You know I've heard that,” Maneler turned around on the piano bench, “so what was that about? Is he hurt?”

“No. He was in shock as Schubit gave him quite a fright. The Prince and I confronted him about it and discovered that it was purely an accident. However, I could tell Prince Shining is still upset and left Schubit shaken up.”

“Oh… I see. Still, I have to give him thanks for permitting me to see what became of my old home… and my daughter’s grave…”

The Professor walked further into the lounge area of the car. “I hope I don’t sound as if I’m prying, but were you able to make your peace with her?”

He nodded. “At least I was finally able to tell her that I was sorry… for everything. But even so… it still left me to feel empty inside.”

“Do you think you’re going to be alright?”

“I will be. At least I have the time to… Oh!" His ears perked up in realization, "I forgot, I didn’t get the chance to tell either of you this, but it happened again, at her grave.”

This caught the Professor’s attention. “What? Do you mean that magic from earlier?”

“Well… Yes and no. Once again, it was triggered by an emotion I had while I was there. But this time, the music that came out was something else. And I know what it was.”

“What?”

“The opening movement to my fifth symphony – the funeral march. Only this time, something different happened. Instead of a forest…” He cleared his throat before saying: “I saw the ghost of my daughter, and I was able to talk to her.”

The train car went silent as the Professor processed what he was hearing. “Are you telling the truth?”

“You could have that guard that was with me testify if you’d like,  he’ll tell you the same. But there she was… right there in front of me was her ghost. I busted into tears as I told her that I was sorry for not being the father she needed and pleaded with her for forgiveness. And… she understood. Telling me that she still loves me and said that I shouldn’t be mean to myself for what had happened. At least this time, we were able to say goodbye to one another. Fortunately for me, minutes after the music and she went away that a guard said that we needed to get back on the train.”

The professor sunk onto his plot, awestruck. “You mean… you have the power to talk to the dead?”

“I really don’t know what that was, but I’m glad that I was at least tell her everything I wanted to say.”

“But… Mr. Maneler, don’t you realize the enormous amount of power you have? I mean, if what you say is indeed true, if you could grow a forest and speak to the dead… Have you thought about what else you might be able to be capable of?”

“I have.” The deer said as he closed the lid over the keys of the piano. “And frankly, Professor, the idea is already frightening as it is. I mean, if I could do those things – and that Schubit darkens the sky and almost killed a colt by accident – just imagine what the others might be able to do.”





Buch had never seen any place like Vanhoover. It was a place that was full of contradictions and counterbalances. Nearly every street, it seemed, was part forest and part modern structure. Where traces of old, brick buildings shared side by side with skyscrapers of stone, steel, and glass. Even in a section of the city called the Gas District, he couldn’t help but think that samples of life of flora and fauna were crammed together. Here, street performers in bazaar costumes entertain for bits, and there, a group of tourists gets off a bus to admire the buildings and the steam-powered clock that was down the street from a music hall: The Gaslight Theater.

Through the ebony doors and around hallways that lead to the backstage, a Pegasus sat in a chair with a number around his neck. The light green stallion looked this way and that of the row of other musicians. Some were as young as foals while others were ancient but all were just as equally nervous. He noted that many of them not only held onto their instruments, but all of these clean, well-brushed ponies were looking at him.

He knew of course why. He wasn’t able to bathe in the past few days, and he had none of the fine clothing that they had. He knew that compared to them, he was a beggar that fit the part. From his greasy gray mane to his broken feathers on his wings, he stood out like a sore hoof. Yet, even as he waited, he kept touching his smooth face. A younger face that he knew wasn’t his, but close. A hefty kind that was free of wrinkles, from the years of stress while wearing that hot, heavy powdered wig. If anything, he wasn’t even sure if he liked the new body. But he was certain that he must do something if he’ll be able to eat tonight.

“Number fifty-one, you’re up.” A unicorn with a clipboard said.

Taking a deep breath, Buch walked up towards the stage, going past the previous mare that went up, returning in tears. Almost never a good sign to see in his opinion. However, he had to press onto the stage of bright lights, a piano, and a microphone. He could hear the audience muttering as soon as he set hoof on that stage. His scruffiness in full view of everyone, including the three judges in the front row. All old and had the eyes of vultures as they watched him approach the microphone.

As soon as he was right in front of it, he heard one of the judges say: “I take it that you had a bad day?”

“Huh?”

“You look disheveled.” Another judge said. “Did you bothered to try to keep up with the dress code?”

“With all due respect sirs,” Buch replied, “I have no money to buy clothing. Or food for that matter.”

“So why did you come to the Philharmonic Competition?” Asked another judge.

“Isn’t it obvious? I heard about your grand prize of five-hundred bits and a position in the orchestra. So, if I do win, I could afford to eat and, Celestia willing, earn a job so I may have a place to stay.”

He heard more muttering among the audience, this time with a more sympathetic tone to his ears.

“So, can you play an instrument?” The first judge asked.

“I can.”

“What are you good at?”

Buch looked over to the piano and responded, “The Keyboard.”

“And what are you going to play for us – Mister…?”

The stallion thought for a moment of mixing the letters in his own name before responding: “Call me Chub.” This got a laugh from the audience.

“Okay…?” He heard the second judge say. “So… Mr. Chub… What piece are you going to play for us on the piano?”

“I was thinking of… Buch.”

In the dim light, he saw all three judges scribbling on their clipboards. “Always a favorite choice.” The third spoke. “What in particular?”

“I was thinking from the first book of the Well-Tempered Clavier. The second Prelude and Fugue in C minor.”

He saw some nodding from the judges. “Very well.” The first judge said. “Show us what you can do.”

With a nod, he turned his attention towards the piano, eyeing at the black and white keys. Before he could sit down, he pressed down on a key, listening in of the echo it had in that theater, making a quick calculation of how to play his prelude and fugue before sitting down at the keys, closing his eyes. He waited until all was still, taking in deep breaths before he reached out towards the keys as the familiar, ecstasy of an opening being envisioned before opening his eyes, and began in a furry.

 

An explosion of notes came in which everyone in that theater was caught in the cross-fire. Notes that went by so fast and yet, so clear that the audience, including the judges, were caught off guard by the virtuosity of it all. It was almost as if during that Prelude, he was playing a storm in which he was in complete control. But even in this hurricane of sound, Buch’s face was calm as he recalled every note from memory as if it was something he knew his whole life. It was as if he was being reawakened to something he hadn’t touched on in years – and it was liberating.

The Prelude lasted only a minute, and then as he looked over to his audience, he couldn’t help but notice that the theater was completely silent. At first, he was confused. Everypony he knew that heard him play tend to talk over it. But here, there was nothing from them. Not a sound. Instantly he realized something, they were listening. Really paying attention to every note. At the same time, he wished that he would get some reaction of any kind to let him know how he was doing. An applauding hoof or a disapproval yawn even. But for the first time… it was all silent. And that was unnerving to him. However, as he finished up his whirlwind by a cascade of notes from the upper register to finish off with elegant trim, he went into the fugue itself.

It was the complete opposite of the stormy Prelude, but he was still in control nevertheless. A tiny theme in which at first sounded unremarkable in the clear instrument before he added another above it. Instead of becoming just a simple tune, it was two melodies that enriched the other. Adding a third below them, he wove together a tapestry of interlocking themes like a puzzle that never once collided with one another. In his mind’s eye, he could see the melodies turning, touching, and releasing like a complicated gear system of a clock. All finely tuned and interconnecting with one another. And yet, the harmony of these themes at different octaves went around like the stars in the heavens.

When he drew the fugue to a quiet end, he finally heard something from an audience in the dark: applause. Standing up, he peered into the darkness to see the stomping of hooves and the cheers he received that, with a smile, he made a humble bow.

However, the judges called him over to the mic stand. The first judge looked directly at him and asked: “Mr. Chub, how in Tartarus are you on the streets with talent like that?”

A chilly dread went through him. “Was it not good?”

“Quite the opposite, really.” The first judge leaned forward. “I have heard this piece being played a million times, and somehow, you’ve managed to not only make it your own, but you breathed new life into it. Now, did you make the cut? I say… yes.”

There was applause before the second judge spoke. “Out of all we’ve heard this evening, I believe that you are the most promising musician I’ve heard in a long time. And considering the quality that we’ve judged in this competition, that is setting a very high standard. With that said, I can safely say that you’ve reached it. I say yes.” To this, this too was given approval from the audience.

Then, there was the third. “You know, not everyone could play what you did. And I should know, that piece is incredible, frustratingly difficult to get it right. As a professional, it has taken me literally years just to get it sound controlled but not restrictive. With you, however, coming off the streets, sitting down at that piano there, and be able to play it flawlessly without a single note of it wrong... Whatever I have strived for, you perfected it. So, I’d say that it’s an absolute sin to refuse you. So, I say, yes.”

There was a roar from the audience in which caught Buch off guard. But regardless, he knew that he’s done it. With a modest bow, he sighed in relief that he is gonna eat tonight.

As he walked off stage, one of the stage assistants gave him a note that only said:



Stay after the show so we can take you to dinner. We have much to talk about. – Quarter Note.


> 10: A Tale of Three Miracles in Eb Major
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

On paper, learning about how to make doughnuts and decorating them sounded fun as a job. They weren’t that hard to make or fry up once one is shown how to do it. Out of simple ingredients and tools, anyone could come up with countless combinations of flavors, textures, and fillings. Not only that but at Doughnut Joe’s, if there still left overs, the employees could eat it for free.

However, as Moztrot discovered, the only downside to getting this new job was that the only position available was at night. Particularly, his shift starts from eight in the evening until two in the morning. It was during a time where customers tend to seemingly avoid the twenty-four-hour shop. As much as it has colorful glazes, bright lighting, and a clean, white uniform, there wasn’t much fun to be had when there was no one to so much play a game with.

Since business at this late hour was rather slow, it left the stallion with nothing much to do besides polishing the glass on the counter for the hundredth time. No matter how often Moztrot looked at his own reflection, he still couldn’t accept that what he was looking at was… him. What stared back at him in that paper hat and white apron was a face that was both his and not at the same time. A face that had golden fur, not cream. Eyes of emerald green, not blue. And a curly, wild mane of chocolate brown, not his white, powdered, uniformed mane that he became so accustomed to.

“Still nopony here, Trot?” He looked up to see his boss, Doughnut Joe walking out of his office. While he had given him a nickname, there was a part of him that irked him for not being called by his real name as he was beginning to regret it.

“Apart from the fly that wanted to buy a sugar cube, coffee, and a thimble, everypony outside has been avoiding us like we’re selling the plague.”

This got his boss chuckling. He was a hefty looking pony that in the back of Moztrot’s mind knew that if he ever got him angry enough, he might be able to snap him in two. So, he went with the stagey of trying to make him laugh. “Okay, that’s actually good, Trot. But yeah, I still kinda feel bad for having you take on a graveyard shift. However, ya gotta understand that it’s nothing personal, it’s just that since you’re new, I wanna have you get to know the ropes of the trade before throwing ya to the wolves.”

Moztrot smirked. “For selling doughnuts?”

“You’d be surprised. Here in Canterlot, the customers can and will turn on you if you skipped any details in their order. I had folks scream at me for not sprinkling the right kind of chopped peanuts on once. That’s what I’m trying to get you to be prepared for in case you’ll have to meet ponies like that.”

“But am I ready now? You’ve already shown me how to work those coffee machines, how to put happy sprinkles on doughnuts, and explained to me how the register contraption thing works. So why not move me to where I could finally meet ponies?”

“Trot, you’ve only been here for a few days, I don’t think you can learn everything in that short amount of time.”

Moztrot frowned. “Are you saying that I can’t remember everything?”

“All I’m saying is that it takes time to get familiar with where everything is before you’ll have to deal with a large crowd.”

“You mean like that one?” He asked, pointing a hoof.

Doughnut Joe looked at where he was pointing at, caught off guard to see a swarm of ponies was coming towards the shop. Nearly all of them were young adults that wore glowing rings that lit up in an array of bright neon colors. As they came closer, there were cheers and shouts of excitement and celebration. Along with the screeching of techno music that nearly drowned out the crowd.

“Oh crap,” were the words that slipped Joe’s muzzle as he quickly realized that there was an army of possibly potential customers heading their way. And he has only a staff of himself along with his newest Employee. “Okay, I’ll tackle the register while you tackle the doughnuts. I’m gonna need you to be quick on your hooves for this and fill out the orders as quickly as you can.”

Then came through the door, leading the flood of ponies was a white unicorn mare with a lightning blue mane and a pair of shady purple glasses. On her back was a device that Moztrot had never seen before that appeared to be the source of the music. It had two stereo disks, one on each side that let out the buzzing and whirring sounds. What interested Moztrot as she came in was how the other ponies behaved.

As they entered, they practically danced their way in. Their manes waved this way and that, waving their glowing sticks and shouting “Yeah!” or “Woohoo!” Moztrot saw in them that these strangers were having something that he hadn’t had in days. Something that he wanted nothing more.

Fun.

“Welcome to Doughnut Joe’s,” his boss at the register shouted over the music, “Can I take your order?”

The mare lit up her horn to turn the volume of the screaming saddle down a bit so she could talk. “Hey, dude! We were partying like hard a couple of blocks down when we found out that we’re run out of snacks. Since I didn’t want the party to end, I’ve taken the party with me while we get some more munchies.”

Joe blinked. “Okay… And what would you like?”

She looked behind her at the crowd that by now and filled up every available space in the shop. “We’ve got a pretty good size crowd so… As many doughnuts you can spare. So… all of it.” There was a cheer from the crowd when they heard this.

Moztrot looked over to his boss over the rowdy ponies to see his expression in which his eyes had widened, and his mouth dropped. “All?” He turned over to his newest Employee. “Fry up some fresh ones. Now!”

Thus, a mad dash was made to pull out whatever dough was ready and trying to cook them while Doughnut Joe was quickly running out of the already finished ones out from the counter. As much as he tries to get each and every one to a golden brown, he knew that it would take too much time and the already glazed doughnuts would long run out by the time he gets them up there. But at the same time, his ears were still listening to the music that was coming from the saddle speakers that sparked his imagination with its unusual, unique sound.

“Ya gonna need to pick up the pace, Trot,” Joe told him as trays of doughnuts were flying right off as soon as he takes them out. “I don’t know how much longer I can take this.”

“Coming!”

But even as he gets them out of the oil and into the glazing machine, even those too were snatched up by his boss. Every time he places even one down, fifty more were demanded. With every passing moment, Joe became ever more anxious about trying to feed the mob of ponies that waited for a bite for something to eat.

“I need these doughnuts yesterday, Trot!” His boss called out as he tossed a few fresh ones into the chocolate glaze. “C’mon and hurry up!”



It was within this pressure cooker stress, the demands from his boss, the enthusiasm of customers and this new electronic music all ringing in his ears that his mind recalled a melody he once written long ago that suddenly exploded out in the shop. At first, the ponies inside the shop were confused to hear a new beat that didn’t come from the white mare.

Moztrot looked behind his shoulder at his boss. “You want me to hurry up? How about I just wish to doughnuts to rain from the sky?!”

As he was saying this, the customers took notice of a pink cloud that they were certain wasn’t there before that had the distinct smell of strawberries. And then, when the music began to play it’s hurrying but the elegant melody, finished, glazed, sprinkled, drizzled and warm doughnuts began to fall from the cloud.

“Trot?” Joe asked as he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “Are you doing this?”

“This is awesome!” Moztrot cried as he climbed and hopped over the counter, reaching a hoof out to the scrumptious food fall onto it. “Although, why is the cloud pink? Although I wish that it would rain flank cakes.” And thus, the pink cloud granted his wish as it began to rain cakes in the shape of pony butts.

As much as Moztrot wanted to laugh his head off of seeing some of the customers getting face plants with plot cakes, it suddenly clicked to him what this cloud does. “Holy Celestia! It grants wishes!” He hopped up and down like a foal on Hearth’s Warming morning with a wide grin. “This is the best thing to happened to me!”

“Well, I wish that it would stop!” Joe said, but nothing happened as a flank cake hit him in the face.

“You’re not fun.” Moztrot pouted. “I wish for this to be a real party.”

Thus, the pink cloud granted the wish where confetti floated down, balloons came up from the floor, the window light up the shop in a kaleidoscope of colored lights, rivers of fizzy strawberry soda ran, mountains of cakes, candy, doughnuts, and ice cream formed while self-playing orchestras flew about like birds.

Carnivals of light, color, tastes and smells were everywhere. Some found themselves riding on rails of candy canes while others swim in pools of sweet bubbly soda pop. Everywhere Moztrot looked in this sugary wonderland, ponies were both surprised and delighted at the same time. Hopping about like a foal, he observed the fruits of his wish come true. Here, some plucked from an orchard of apple pie trees. There, some danced on a keyboard of white and dark chocolate. But over all this kingdom of sugar, he turned his attention towards a mountain of powdered doughnuts that his boss was sledding down from.

“What they hey, Trot!” Joe shouted as he hangs on the sled for dear life. Within a moment, his boss barreled through a pile of powdered sugar in which he was coated completely white from his paper hat to his hooves. Although the sight of it was enough to make Moztrot laugh, it certainly wasn’t amusing to his boss that stood over him like a sugary phantom. “Okay, how are you doing this?!”

“I don’t know.” He grinned. “I think this is all really fun, and tasty too. So c’mon, enjoy the moment and take a bite of that bush over there.”

“Don’t you realize what you’re doing? What happened to my shop? Where did all of this stuff come from? How are you doing all of this stuff? Are you Discord in disguise? What they hey?!”

Moztrot tilted his head. “I’m afraid I don’t know what you mean, but you should probably relax. I mean look around, everypony is having fun, so why not you too?”

“I don’t have time to have fun! I need to get these ponies fed that they’re paying us to do!”

His employee harrumphed, “Well I wish you have time to have fun.”

But before Joe could respond, the white mare from with a blue mane and dark glasses snowboard over to him. “There you are!” She said as turned sharply, not only stopping herself, but spraying him in powdered sugar. “This right here is the best party ever! I don’t know what you put in those doughnuts but here.” She lit up her horn in which a very large bag of bits popped up next to him. “They were worth every bit.”

Much to Moztrot’s amusement, his boss let his jaw hang from his mouth. “But miss, I didn’t put anythi-”

“Shut up and take my money!” She said before transporting herself back on top of the powered mountain to ski down again.

Hopping away from his dumbstruck boss, he wondered about his Candyland, hitching a ride on an orange while the music continued on for another minute before it reached its flurry of notes that brought forth fireworks before they and everything else took a bow as they played out the final, closing chords.

As the music disappeared, so did the colorful sugar-coated wonderland. While the shop was still crowded, Moztrot couldn’t help but notice that there was frosting on their faces and Joe had a laughably huge bag of bits on near the register. There was a stillness among the mob as they were all looking at him before they erupted in cheers.

“Best, hallucination, ever!” The white mare pushed up to where Moztrot was. “I don’t know what just happened, but that was awesome!” She held out a hoof, “Name’s DJ-PON3, you?”

He shook her hoof. “Call me Trot.”

“You wanna come work with me?” She asked. “I know a place that could use whatever it was you did.”

Moztrot grinned, “Is it fun and pays much?” She nodded. Turning to his boss, he said to him. “Doughnut Joe, I quit.”





Braeburn sighed as he stood on his front porch. Looking out to his small group of farmhooves that stood there, waiting for him to make his announcement. “Fella’s,” he began, “Ah ain’t gonna lie to any of y’all but… There’s something that needs ta be said here and now. Since there’s not a single blossomin’ tree in mah orchard… Ah’m afraid that it wouldn’t be wise fer me ta keep Y'all around anymore.”

There were several objections that called out all at once, but Braeburn raised a hoof. “Ah know, Ah know! But ya fella’s have ta understand, ya hear? In these parts where trees don’t blossom, there won’t be apples ta harvest. There ain’t no sense in me in keepin’ ya around if the very thin’ ta get the bits fer everyone ain’t comin’. So Ah can’t pay if Ah don’t have the means ta do so. Look, Ah’m real sorry fer all of this, but Ah’m afraid that Ah have ta let ya all go and close this here farm.

“But don’t worry, Ah’ll pay what Ah owe now. It wouldn’t seem right fer me ta let ya all go empty hoofed. So form a line and Ah’ll get ya yer payment.”

And so, one by one, Braeburn gave his farmhooves their day’s pay and a farewell in hopes they find better luck elsewhere. As the line got shorter, however, he was beginning to dread to face the one employee that he wasn’t looking forward to. Then, the very last pony stepped up, looking down at him with rage.

‘Aw crap, here we go.’ Braeburn thought before Beethooven slammed his hoof onto the planks of the porch.

“How could you do this?!” He shouted. “Of working day and night, shedding my blood and sweat into trying to get back home that you are doing this now?!”

The yellow cowpony sighed. “Look partner. This ain’t got nothin’ ta do with ya. Ah have ta close because Ah’m left with no choice. Do ya see those trees over there? There’s ain’t a single bud anywhere. Ah know, Ah’ve been searchin’ fer just one in hopes that Ah wouldn’t do this. But as ya can see, nature has other ideas.”

“Then why don’t you ask for a loan? Help from the other farmers? That buffalo tribe that knows the land than anyone? I may have been in this oven of a place for a few days, and even I know there are plenty of ways to keep you afloat. And yet, you decided to give up!?”

“Don’t ya think Ah’ve tried?” Braeburn snapped back at him. “Do ya think Ah wanna let ya fella’s go like this? Ah truly did everythin’ Ah could think of and it’s not enough. Now Ah know yer plight of gettin’ home, but with what Ah got, there’s nothin’ much Ah could do at this point. Ah’m sorry.”

Beethooven couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Then… Then where am I supposed to go? I don’t have even half of getting back and there’s nowhere in this Celestia forsaken town that has so much as a job opening.”

Normally, Braeburn would chastise him for giving out such a cruel statement of the settler’s town he came to know and love. However, all that came out of his mouth was a sad sigh and him telling the stallion bluntly. “Ah don’t know… The only thin’ Ah want, is a miracle.”

After giving Beethooven his bits and telling him good luck, Braeburn dragged his hooves into his house. For a moment, the composer stood there, looking at the meager bits that he knew wasn’t close to enough for the journey back before turning around to leave. He walked slowly, partly looking at the blossomless trees and the stars above, and partly let his thoughts boil.

‘Why are you still torturing me so, fate?’ He thought. ‘First losing my hearing; then having Neighpoleon betray his republican values, become emperor and invade Whienna; then engage in a fight for custody over my nephew, only for him to end up hating me and nearly killing himself; then have my Ninth Symphony be a financial flop; and if dying wasn’t enough, now I ended up in this town in the middle of nowhere in the scorching heat, work my flank off for the cost of going back home, only to find that the only job in town is closing because these trees can’t produce a single flower?!’

“No!” He shouted to himself. “I refuse to give in that easily. Everyone else might have, but not me cruel fate! I will go home, even if I have to change Nature’s mind itself!”



Then out of the silence of the night, Beethooven felt something within him that poured out into grove around him. He could not only hear the symphony that glorified the pastoral, but he could feel from the very soil itself that it was coming alive. He saw the grass and even the trees to glow while the violins and violas were waxing out the warm melody. Everywhere he looked, the apple trees seemed to light up like lanterns in the dark, moonlit evening.

As confused as he was, Beethooven wasn’t sure that he wanted this to stop. His curiosity compelled him to go further into the orchard as he passed by, the trees quivered and shook as new leaves sprang forth and blossoms appeared. And at his hooves, as he passed by, the grass itself became a darker shade of green and wild flours popped out from the ground.

“What in tarnation is goin’ on?” Beethooven turned his head to find Braeburn behind him in awe at what he was looking at. “Are… Are ya doin’ this?” He asked as he eyed the trees. “Is this real?”

Beethooven didn’t reply as he wasn’t sure if it was or not. He wasn’t sure if he was suddenly dreaming or that nature itself finally decided to give in. Either way, he wasn’t sure if he wanted this to stop. Before either stallion knew it, the blossoms had given way to apples that grew right before their very eyes.

“Holy Celestia! Mah apples!” Braeburn cried. “Ah have apples now! Ah’m saved.” But his rejoicing gave way to concern as he noticed that those apples kept on growing, getting bigger by the moment. “Uh… Partner… Ya can stop now.” And yet, the music still kept on playing. “Hey, Ah think ya got it. Hello! Ya can stop now!”

But when this was ignored, Braeburn panicked as he had to do something fast before it becomes out of control. Not only did the fruit keep on growing, but so were the trees, the grass and the flowers that continued to grow taller and thicker to where in some places that new trees were popping up. So in fear of being engulfed in the rapidly expanding vegetation, the yellow cowpony did the first thing that came to mind: he punched Beethooven in the face. As soon as he fell to the ground in shock, so did the music that instantly ceased.

“What in Tartarus did you do that for!?” Beethooven instantly got up, trying to throw punches back at him, but Braeburn quickly jumped out of the way.

“Hey, Ah’m sorry. But Ah had ta before it goes out of control. Just look around.” He waved a hoof at the overgrown orchard. “If Ah let ya, then you’d turn mah farm inta the Everfree Forest. Besides,” he went over to a tree in which he bucked it, and from it fell apples that were the size of buckballs, “whatever ya did, ya brought on an early harvest. And judgin’ by the size of these, not only do ya and the others have yer jobs back, but Ah think ya might get a raise too.”

Both Beethooven’s ears perked up. “You mean it?”

Braeburn nodded. “Yeah, if Ah can get the fellas back ta harvest… and clean up all of this mess… Ah think these would sell at the market fer quite a bit. Which means that there’ll be more money ta come in which ya’ll be able ta get back home. But first thin’s first, we’d need ta get them farmhooves back.”

Beethooven happily complied.





Debussy found that there was a certain charm to the small sea village of Horseshoe Bay. If anything, just sitting at its local pub sums up the town gave a rustic feel in its appearance from the ancient wood and its washed-up antiques. Yet, the objects there that were hanged up reminded him of home. The sailors at the bar drinking away at the bottle while joking with shipmates with a side of a mediocre meal. Above him were stained glass lamps that loomed over every table. Beside him were rows of chairs and makeshift tables that Debussy could have sworn were made out of driftwood. And in the corner of the pub was an upright piano without a player. The kind that its varnish had long been stripped back and the lid for the keys had disappeared years ago.

Overall, it was in every sense of the word quaint. The only problem that the unicorn had was that it was still hot and stuffy, even after the sun had gone down.

“I can’t help but notice you eyeing that piano.” He looked up to see his Captain with a bottle under his wing. “Did you know how to play it?”

“Well… I can.” Debussy began. “It’s just… It’s been a long time for me.”

The Pegasus Captain raised an eyebrow. “How come?”

He shrugged. “Well… I used to be a musician, and I still remember how to play much of what I wrote, but with my daughter’s passing… I just don’t see the need to play anymore.”

Looking between the unicorn and the piano, the old Captain sat down across from Debussy. “Son, do you know why we have stories?”

The unicorn blinked. “What does this have got to do with anything?”

“Just hear me out, I have a point to make. So, do you know why we have stories?”

Debussy shrugged. “Because we want to be entertained?”

“Not exactly,” the Captain shook his head, “as my grandpappy put it, that both stories and music are alike in one way. That being they are the food of life, they tell us how to live and why even at times when we can’t explain it. With the right kind of talent, telling a story or just playing a song could help us to deal with life’s problems when words aren’t good enough. They both could take us to places and moments of time when they were made to help us reflect on certain things.

“Look, I can tell that you’re hurting. And I did mean when I say that I’m sorry for your loss. But during these past few days, you’ve been keeping your misery to yourself. Trust me, from personal experience, it’s not healthy.”

“So, what are you trying to say?” Debussy questioned.

“If you wanted to go play on that piano over there, just makeup something from the top of your head to let those depressing thoughts out… then do so. Nopony here is stopping you from doing so except yourself.”

After giving another glance at the lone piano, he simply muttered “Aye Captain,” before getting up and walking over to the instrument. As he did so, a memory came to him.

He remembered how it was on that summer night in Paris. Where the air was suffocatingly hot, yet the streets have calmed down enough for anyone wanting to sleep. Reclined on an armchair, Debussy was alone in the music room with nothing except for a sketch for a piano piece, and a bottle of port awaiting on a table next to him. While the windows were opened, he had to pat his forehead from the sweat that was running down.

“Daddy.” Debussy looked up to see a filly with a doll in her foreleg. The earth pony, he noticed, was too sweating but had a tired look. “I can’t sleep. It’s too hot.”

With a sigh, he set his sketch aside and gestured over to his daughter to come to him. “Oh, I know Chou-Chou, this heat is unbearable that I can’t sleep too. Did your governess give you a glass of water?”

She shook her head. “She’s asleep. And I don’t want to wake her up.”

Debussy looked over at the clock. “Two in the morning already? Here, let’s go to the kitchen and get you some water, it should help you cool down a little. And come to think of it, I should probably do the same.”

After going down to the next floor while being led by a kerosene lamp, both father and daughter into the empty kitchen where they got out two glasses and fill them with the small water pump in the sink.

“I wish there were ice.” His daughter said as she was given her glass.

“So do I, but it’s not yet winter and it’s very expensive this time of year.” He said before taking a gulp of the water. “At least night time is much cooler, unlike the day.”

“But not by much.” She said after she took a drink. “What were you doing daddy?”

“I’m not exactly sure yet. I only have a sketch that’s been going around my head for over a week, only I don’t know what to do with it.”

“You know what I like to hear?” His father shook his head. “I want to hear something cool. I wish I could hear a blizzard and watch the snowflakes dance.” She paused before asking, “Daddy, what kind of music does snow dance to? All I’ve been able to hear is the wind.”

“If it’s in a blizzard,” Debussy said, “then it has to be something fast, but cold. You can’t have a warm melody, why, all those snowflakes would melt. Everypony knows… that…” He looked down at his daughter. “Chou-Chou, you just gave me an idea.”

At the piano bench, Debussy looked down at the yellowed keys as his hooves reached up to them. After wiping the sweat off from his brow, he took a moment to recall the first time he played for his daughter that cold piece as he began to play. Sighing in nostalgia about right after he wrote up what he thought about playing, that he taught his daughter to dance.



As soon as his hooves began to move the icy wind, he was surprised to feel it on his back. Looking over his shoulder, he and all the other sailors were surprised to see snow that was drifting from the ceiling without any cloud at all along with a wind that blew. Debussy was even more surprising that although he immediately took his hooves off the keys, the music was still playing as snow twisted and twirled around them.

“What the Tartarus?!” His captain shouted in surprise as he shielded his face with a wing. “What’s going on!?”

While everyone in the pub was getting up and rushing out the door, Debussy only stood there in disbelief as he spotted something spinning in the instant snowstorm. While it moved about quite a bit and through the tables and chairs, the outline of the falling snow showed that it was a little filly that danced in a frosty white dress. The little earth pony spins and twirled like an undisciplined, if not mischievous ballet dancer.

“Oh Celestia…” Debussy whispered aloud. “Chou-Chou?”

The see-through snow filly paused for a moment, silently giggling by lifting a hoof to her muzzle before resuming dancing. Despite the very temperature in the pub dropping to the point where frost was beginning to form on anything made of glass, Debussy didn’t notice as his attention was towards the outline of the invisible filly. All the while, the piano quick keys ringing inside and outside of his head.

“Hey! Debussy!” He looked up at his captain that popped his head through the door as the blizzard was stabbing at his face. “What are you doing?! Get out of there!”

Confused, he held up a hoof, trying to catch a snowflake. And although he could clearly see some of the flakes landing on his warm hoof and melted – and that he could see his breath being fogged up in the wintery air, he curiously didn’t feel anything. “Why?” He asked his captain. “It’s not doing much harm other than blowing air around.”

“Because you’re standing in the middle of a blizzard with a wendigo dancing around in the pub ya lunatic!” Tightening his overcoat and pushing his hat over his head, he dashed right in to try to get the unicorn out.

However, Debussy wasn’t interested in going. “Hey! What are you doing! Let go!”

But as soon as he touched his fur, his captain instantly pulled his hooves away to try to rub them for warmth. “Holy Celestia, you’re freezing! Did you turn into Mr. Freeze all of a sudden?!”

Among the shouting, Debussy’s eye caught the dancing filly in which his instinct told him to try to reach out to her. As soon as he touched the snow dusty outline, it grew into a solid thing that, the only way the two stallions could describe it was like watching a piece of ice expanding in the air, only to become an ice sculpture that moved.

That was exactly what happened. The snow became solidified until it showed a filly in a dress. Although everything about it was made out of ice, Debussy recognized the face that smiled back up at him. He instantly reached out to touch its face in which, to his surprise, it felt warm. “Chou-Chou, is this you?”

The ice filly shook her head but tugged at his hoof as if wanting him to play with her. Debussy, however, pulled his foreleg away. “Then… what do you want?”

There was confusion on the filly’s face as if she didn’t understand what he meant. She then twirled around before offering up her hoof up to him.

“I think it wants to dance with you.” The captain said.

Within a moment, Debussy instantly connected with his nostalgic feeling right before he began to play. Of how he taught his daughter to dance after he completed the piece. So, in that iceberg of a pub, he gave a small bow and offered his hoof while the filly smiled and grabbed onto his.

“This is very simple,” he told the ice filly, “first you step here. Good. Then step backward, then back to me… Very good.” And so, among the wintry wind and notes, began to teach his memory of his daughter to dance, moving forward and back, spinning her with a hoof and even picking her up to repeat the dance again. For a brief moment, while he knew that what he was teaching to dance wasn’t really his daughter – he pretended that he was. Back home again with the greatest joy of his life returned to him. Even in this winter fantasy in that brief moment, it was all real.

But no sooner had he begun to teach the ice filly, that the surrounding piano music slowed down until a few, very high notes sprinkled off the closing of the dance. The icy air instantly warmed up and dissipated like waking up from a daydream. Snow and frost quickly evaporated back into the stuffy heat. Even the ice filly didn’t melt in front of Debussy’s eyes but turned into vapors of steam right after the little filly waved at him.

The captain looked around at the still-empty pub that has returned back to normal. He had only one question in his mind that he was glad to express. “What was that?”

Debussy looked at his hoof. “I think…” he said, “I danced with a memory.”
> 11: The Apology in G minor
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

By morning, the Crystal Train rolled through the forests and steep mountains westward. By noon, it came into the station of Vanhoover. For Inverno, Schubit, and Maneler, they awed at the sheer scale of this city by the sea with a seemingly endless row of buildings that were made of brick, steel, and glass. But at the same time, it was a worrying sight to see hundreds of thousands (or perhaps millions) of ponies that have crammed both pavement and traffic of the city.

“How are we going to find anyone in all of this?” Inverno asked after he and Shining hopped off the train. “If we go talked to everypony, it might take forever.”

“We’re not gonna do that,” Shining said, stepping off the train.

This catches Inverno’s attention. “Huh? What do you mean?”

“You’re right that this city is too big to go up to everyone would take forever. But luckily, we’re not gonna do that. Instead, we’re going to go to this city’s police. It’s their job to record any suspicious activity like say… a pony rode his way in by boxcar?”

“That’s actually very clever.” They turned around to see Professor Key stepping out. “For all we know, they might put whoever it is under missing ponies or some other.”

“Exactly.” Shining concurred. “And from there, we can piece together where whoever it is has gone to.”

“Uh… E-Excuse me, Your Highness.” Out of the crystalline train was Schubit that climbed down the steps and onto the concrete floor, with Maneler following after. “If it’s alright with you, we’d like to offer our assistance with the search.”

Inverno saw both Shining and the Professor exchange a glace before Key asked, “What for? Why do you want to help?”

Maneler spoke up. “We talked it over this morning and we agreed to help with this search for three reasons. For starters, everypony that we knew, our families, friends, students, patrons, have died for over a century ago. The colt here, while his actions for bringing us from the dead was irresponsible, is at the same time understandable, considering he has made the effort to offer his hoof in friendship to me. While Schubit here wishes to make amends with the colt after what happened the other day.”

“And the other two reasons?”

Schubit cleared his throat. “Well… We didn’t exactly want to be kept cooped up like prisoners on this contraption. Despite the comfortable arrangements, we would get bored rather fast. So, we thought that the more that is helping you with this endeavor, the greater your chances of finding them much more quickly. Besides, with such a drastic change, why should we be denied to see what the world looks like since we have been gone?”

Shining gave some thought to this. “Of course, this would mean that I would have to put a guard on you both if you wandered off. And what’s the third reason?”

“For me…” Schubit pawed at the ground. “It’s more personal as… if what you said was true… you brought back my idol. One that I thought it was a missed opportunity to getting to know after he died.”

“Beethooven.” The Professor said. “That’s right, you carried the funerary torch that day.”

“Yes.” Schubit nodded. “I am a fanatic of his work and was too shy to approach him when he was alive. So I figured that if I helped, I would get to meet one of my heroes.”

As the Crystal Guards marched off the train and stood in formation, Shining had to do a quick calculation in his head with his current plans and the offered assistance. “Alright, fine. You two can come along.” But before they could move out, the Prince stopped in front of Schubit with a glare. “I am giving you this chance to convince me that you’re not a threat to my son. Try repeating your stunt from yesterday and I will personally send you back to the afterlife. Got it?”

Quivering, Schubit upon instinct nodded his head.





Fortunately for those involved with the search, there was a report filed a few days ago of a stowaway found in a boxcar where a green Pegasus disappeared before Vanhoover’s police would investigate. At the same time, it was noted that the file was under “Mentally Questionable” due to the fact that the one who filed the report said that the name of the stowaway was Johann Sebastian Buch. As far as the search party was concerned, they know who they were looking for.

With this information, the Professor asked for a map of the city and requested that even after they walked out of the station and down the streets, he was immediately questioned.

“So… explain to us why exactly we are going to every coffee shop in the city?” Maneler asked.

“If this is Buch, I think it would be best to investigate the places in which he would have loved in life. It’s been well documented that he loved coffee to the point that he wrote a cantata where the plot was about coffee addiction.”

“Professor.” Inverno walked a little faster to catch up to the old stallion. “What’s a cantata?”

“In a nutshell, a cantata is a piece that tells a very short story that usually sings with the accompaniment of instruments. Most of the time they are centered around a theme like kindness or sacrifice. But anyway,” he craned his neck over to Shining, “I think we should start looking at the coffee houses that are nearby the railways, as perhaps that might be the first and likely places he might go to.”

“Like what?” Asked Shining.

“I suppose we could start with a place called the Gas District, those reports say that he was found around that area.”

As they begin to make their way down the streets with guards circling around Inverno, his father, the Professor and the two resurrected composers, Schubit made the remark to Maneler: “Between you and me, I don’t really know who this Buch is.”

Maneler looked down at him wide-eyed. “You never… You have no idea who Buch is?”

“Not really. Should I?”

“The father of music? Master of harmony and counterpoint? The one that every composer had taken lessons from?”

Schubit blinked. “The only master of harmony that I know of is Beethooven. But I take it that this Buch must be some distant composer… or one that became famous after I died?”

“Distant, yes, but I’m rather shocked you haven’t heard of him. He’s composed around the early to mid-eighth century. Considered by many as… well… one of the gods in musical history.”

“And we’re not?”

Maneler was puzzled. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… this might sound like a ridiculous question, but are we famous too like this Buch you’ve mentioned?”

“I…” He trailed off in thought. “I honestly have no idea. But then again, if this child had gone through the effort to bring us and many others back… Perhaps we are worth remembering in some way.”

“But even so… why choose me?”

“Perhaps you should ask the colt himself.”

Schubit gave a worried look. “I don’t know… isn’t he angry at me? I certainly know his father is.”

Maneler shrugged. “I can’t say. But the only way to know for sure is to go speak with him.”

With a sigh, Schubit trotted a little quicker to try to catch up with the young unicorn that walked behind his father and the Professor. Inverno looked over his shoulder at the stubby unicorn. But even walking side-by-side, there was an awkward silence as the search party marched its way past the shady trees and elaborate brick layered structures. For a good minute, the composer wasn’t exactly sure what to say or how to begin. However, the colt started for him.

“So… what it an accident?”

This snapped Schubit’s attention. “I uh… It wasn’t my intent, I swear to Celestia that I didn’t mean any harm. I-I didn’t know what was going on or why these guards come for me and… I panicked. Besides, I didn’t know that I could do… whatever that was.” He paused, his ears folded flat against his head. “I’m sorry.”

Inverno looked up at him. “Dad said it was an accident to and you didn’t mean to. But… you scared me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You scared dad in thinking that I might have died.”

Now his head hung low. “I’m sorry.”

“But… I’m not mad at you. As much as you scared me, and seeing my worst fear, you don’t seem to be the kind of pony that Papa was like.”

Lifting his head, Schubit raised an eyebrow. “How so?”

“Apart from being a big fat liar, he was cruel. But you don’t come off as such to me.”

“That’s because you don’t deserve it.” He snorted. “I mean… a long time ago, I was once a teacher when the only time I distributed the cane on my students is if I honestly thought they deserved it. I spare the thrashing rod from the innocent.”

Inverno, near hearing such a thing before, sidestepped away from Schubit. “You hit your students?”

“Well… that was how things were done.” He explained. “Perhaps schooling and teaching have changed since I was a teacher, but even so, it’s not something I enjoy doing. Regardless, I wouldn’t exactly know since I didn’t stay in a teaching career for very long. It got in the way of what I really wanted to do, you see. And that was for composition.”

Inverno nodded to let him know that he understood.

“But I do have a question… I’m sorry, I forgot your name.”

“Inverno.”

“Ah yes. Inverno, I want to ask you something and I want the truth: why did you bring me back?”

The colt looked up at him in confusion. “Huh?”

“And I am not referring to what your father, the professor, or Mr. Maneler had said. Rather, I want to hear it from you, young stallion, why did you bring me back? This has bothered me ever since I woke up in this new world. Because in my time… I honestly thought of myself as a failure. I never had the fame of Beethooven, nor had the wealth to hire orchestras to play my larger pieces. So, what I want to ask is why did you decide to resurrect a nopony from the dead from a world that I had no business in existing in?”

“Truth be told: I didn’t know much about you at first,” Inverno replied. “Even after I was rescued and was taught by the professor, I never heard of your name until my teacher shared with me a list of his favorite pieces that he recommended for me to listen to. And on that list, your name kept coming up several times over. In fact, the first thing I listened to was that serenade of yours. And from there, I became curious about whatever you created. From there, the more songs and symphonies that I found you wrote, the more relatable you became.”

“Relatable? How?”

Inverno shrugged. “This might sound strange, but your music might be the closest thing that I have to have a brother, even though I never had one. It’s as if the world you made with your music was from a family member. It’s as if you grew up in the same place as I have, but come out as braver than I. Like how I would imagine what having an older brother would be. I could see it in the music you wrote, and I thought that maybe bringing you here, we might have a similar bond.”

Schubit too in a deep breath. “Inverno, I don’t know if I would push it that far. From my experience, a family isn’t always the kind that would understand you. However, friendship is, I think, a much more reasonable approach. I’ll have you know that I am very particular when it comes to friends, so I cannot guarantee that we would become as such.”

“Oh…” Inverno said with disappointment in his voice.

“However… With that being said, it wouldn’t hurt to at least try. All I ask is that I don’t want to be disturbed when I get an idea of what to compose.”

Inverno smiled. “Maybe I could learn something from you.”

“Oh!” He laughed nervously, “I forgotten that you compose as well. You know, just out of curiosity, could I see some samples of what you’ve written? I’d like to get a good idea of what modern music sounds like.”

“Trust me, you’re not missing much.”

This got a chuckle out of both of them and a smile from the Professor.





After hours of walking up and down streets, through districts, and questioning the owners of coffee shops, there was no hint of Buch anywhere. However, most ponies were partly surprised by Prince Shining walking into their shops while at the same time confused with the strange entourage that followed him around. By the time dinner came around, the search party sat down at the Flying Pig in the Gas District.

“Are most restaurants like this nowadays?” Maneler asked. The decor of the restaurant was like an antique store that somepony decided to place chairs in. A confusion of ancient objects from stained glass windows to a trolley in the very center of the establishment. Hoof painted crockery and oil paintings of elderly farm ponies looked down at the customers eating hoof made noodles.

Professor Key Signature shrugged. “I think this is one of those experimental establishments that try to attract customers by being quirky.”

“Seems rather cluttered if you ask me,” Schubit muttered as he looked through the menu. "It's as if I'm eating at a hoarder's home."

Inverno sat next to Shining as he had his head propped up with a hoof. He didn’t have to ask what was bothering him as his father’s sighs expressed his frustrations. “Are you going to be okay?” The colt asked.

“Yeah… I’ll be fine.” He said as he let himself sit back up straight. “I just think that we might have to stay here for a few days, given how big this place is. But… we just didn’t find anything. Not even a lead.”

“To be fair,” the Professor spoke up, “with the population of citizens and tourists being so large, it is rather like finding a Hearth’s Warming ornament in a pine forest. This place is very large and we don’t know which places he might have visited.” At this point, Maneler raised a cloven hoof. “Yes?”

“How do we know if he went to a coffee shop at all? I mean, when I woke up in that boxcar, I didn’t have anything on me, did you Mr. Schubit?”

“Not really.” The pudgy unicorn shook his head.

“What are you getting at?” Key asked.

“I mean, think about. If Buch really is here, he might be just as penniless as the rest of us. He doesn’t know where he is, how he got there, and has no place to go. Tell me, is there any place in Vanhoover that has a home for the destitute?”

Hearing this, Shining facehoofed. “A homeless shelter! Why didn’t I think of that first!”

“But I think you might be forgetting something else.” Schubit put down his menu. “How do we know if this Buch is in the city at all? What if he hitchhiked his way out heading to some other place in Equestria?”

“As much as I hate to admit,” the old professor sighed, “he’s right. There is no guarantee that he’s here at all.”

“But where would he go to?” Inverno inquired. “Even if he could, where would he want to be at?”

“Perhaps try to find a way back to the last place his family lived in,” Maneler suggested. “After all… Even knowing that I’m in the future, I would have gone to see what became of my family and my home.”

“Are you ready with your order?” They looked up at the mare with an apron and a notepad at the ready. A young-looking Pegasus with a silvery mane tied back, and a wooden brown coat that was covered up by a black apron with a name tag of Banana Crisp. “Or do you need a few more minutes?”

“Uh…” Shining picked up the menu. “I haven’t gotten the chance to look at it so we can wait.”

Before the waitress by the name of Banana could walk away, Inverno reached out to tug on her apron. “Excuse me, but can I ask you something?”

“Oh, sure honey, what would you like?”

At first, Inverno was going to ask what she meant by “honey” but shook it off and returned to his original question. “We’re looking for somepony that’s lost, you see. And so far, we haven’t found him yet.”

“Oh dear,” The waitress gave a sympathetic look. “Is he family?”

“More like a friend. But we went about all day without finding any trace of him.”

“What does he look like?”

“He’s a Pegasus. Light green with a gray mane.”

“Inverno,” Schubit said with a scolding tone, “Let’s not bother the Lady-”

“Does he happened to be a hefty looking guy that’s homeless but can play the piano like a professional?” All eyes from that table were on the waitress.

“How did you know that?” the Professor questioned.

“You mean you don’t know? There was a homeless guy who entered into one of those prestigious classical music contests. I think he played a song by Buch that really impressed the judges enough to make him the winner for a cash prize.”

Shining stood up. “Ma’am, how exactly did you know this?”

“It was yesterday’s news in the paper.” She explained. “All it said that he entered in, won it, and was offered a job by some conductor guy in Canterlot… Something Note, I think.”

“Quarter Note?” Inverno asked.

“Yeah,” Banana slapped a hoof on the ground, “that’s it! And I think he might have taken up the offer since the guy didn’t have a job. Now, would any of you need anything else?”

Shining repeated in saying that they’ll need some more time before she went away. The search party looked at one another in stun silence for a moment.

“On the bright side,” Schubit said, “at least we know where he is now.”
> 12: Night Music in F Major
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

In the dining car of a train heading eastward, Buch looked out of the window towards the passing pine trees that the sun was casting its setting rays on. At times, he had to remind himself that he wasn’t dreaming, even though it very well seemed that it might as well have been. It was only yesterday that he had to beg for food in this unfamiliar world, and now he was well underway towards the golden city of Canterlot in luxuries that were unknown to him. Not even the princes that he entertained had anything like this warm, inviting room on wheels in which hot and cold food is served on a whim. Where the lights never flicker, and the room didn’t ever feel too hot or too cold. And the speed at which they’re traveling! Not even the swiftest carriage drivers he knew could go as fast and gentle as this contraption could.

“Here’s the coffee you asked.” Buch turned his head to the one that made all of this possible for him. The red unicorn sat down next across from him levitating a tray with two mugs, a coffee pot, with sugar and milk. “Normally, I wouldn’t drink this stuff at this hour, but now, it just sounded good to me.”

“Thank you, sir.”

As Quarter Note poured the black, strong liquid into equal shares, he commented. “Forgive me for prying, but you’ve been awfully quiet ever since we boarded the train. Is something wrong?”

“No. I just…” Buch thought over what words to use next. “This is still quite much to digest.”

“Ah…” He nodded as he passed the mug towards him. “Just to be clear, how you became homeless is none of my business. However, even still there are a few... curious things about you that I’d like to know if you’re willing to share.”

Buch raised an eyebrow. “Such as?”

“Well, Mr. Chub, I’d like to know more about your musical talents. Your playing of Buch is phenomenal, clear and even the very tone of it was unique. Almost as if the composer himself sat right down and played it out.”

There was an awkward cough from Buch before taking a sip of his coffee. “What can I say… I have plenty of experience with Buch’s methods.”

“I see.” Note nodded. “So how long have you been a musician?”

“Hmm… A difficult question to answer.”

“How come?”

Buch shrugged. “For starters, I grew up in a very musical family. There wasn’t one pony I knew that wasn’t involved in music somehow. Such as playing an instrument or two, or even composing the occasional piece. I was taught at a young age you see. And I have my little ambition to try to master as many instruments as I could get my hooves on.”

“Ah, there’s nothing wrong with having ambition.” The conductor across from him grinned. “What do you play best at?”

“Oh, let’s see… the violin, viola, cello, viola-de-gamba, the lute, harpsichord, clavichord, the organ, just to name a few – and recently the piano.”

Quarter Note gave a low whistle. “All of these? Forgive my prejudice, but you don’t look someone that’s above thirty or forty. How can you play all of these instruments?”

“I had plenty of time.” Buch deadpanned.

“Alright…” Note gave a quick sip before changing the subject. “So… is Buch you're only interested?”

“In a manner of speaking.”

“Alright, so what interested you in Buch’s work? Come to think of it, how much do you know about it?”

“I can play all of it by heart.”

There was a pause between the two. “By heart?” Note asked in amazement. “But… There are over a thousand known works of Buch!”

“And I know every one of them,” he tapped the side of his head, “right here. I know every sonata, every suite, every fugue, cantata, concerto, and his method for how these things came to be. I know how to improvise fugues, counterpoints, and melodies when called upon.”

Note’s jaw dropped. “But… if what you’re saying is true… then you must have the kind of knowledge and skill that might be on par with Buch himself. And given what I heard a while back, I’m shocked that nopony has heard you until now.”

“What can I say?” Buch shrugged. “I was taught to never show off. That it is better to be modest and know that you are the best than you blabbering to others that you are. Let them tell you not them. You see?”

“Maybe not. But when we get back to Canterlot, I’ll organize a concert for your world debut, of course, I just need to narrow down what pieces from Buch that would give you a great introduction to.”

Buch looked out the rushing window once more in thought. “What about any of the keyboard concertos? They demonstrate a soloist’s skill and virtuosity.”

“Oh! That’s perfect! Especially when they’re Princess Celestia’s favorites, if anything, I wouldn’t be surprised if she showed up to listen to them again.”

Buch went wide-eyed at this. “Do you really think so?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time that she had to stop everything to spend a good fifteen, twenty minutes to listen to one of those concertos, especially the first one. If you impress her, you would be on easy street for the rest of your life.”

There was a pause as Buch looked at his reflection in the window. “I can only pray that will be the case.”





The Blue Sun Bar and Grill wasn’t a very large space, to begin with. If anything, it was a small space for customers despite taking up the whole first floor. Of course, for a restaurant, it was very… simplistic in design from the warm purple walls to the white tables with cushions to sit at. However, there were still countless dishes of every course that flowed out from the kitchen and placed before the wealthier looking ponies that smiled at the meal they could afford.

Between the customers and a window that looked out the passing Manehatteners was a white, baby grand piano that Horseshoepin sat alone playing away a nocturne. As much as he was growing tired from playing, he was rather grateful that at least that he and Liszt now have a job at what they do best. It was arranged that Liszt should have the lunch shift while he with dinner until closing time. On the other hoof, there was something rather uncomfortable playing to a small crowd of strangers. Sure, this wasn’t new from the life he once knew, but it only brought back memories of playing for an unfamiliar crowd in an unfamiliar city… and how isolating it all is.

“Do you always play Horseshoepin?” The musician nearly leaped out of his hide as he suddenly stopped and looked up to who was talking to him. It was a mare yellow in a black dress. Her light orange mane was tied back, along with wearing the kind of jewelry and makeup that was putting up a pretty face for someone. In one hoof, she held a glass. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle ya.”

“Uh…” Horseshoepin’s throat dried up. “Can I uh… help… you?” He asked awkwardly.

“Well… not really you can do at this point. My date still hasn’t shown up and I think I’m being snubbed up… again.”

“Oh… I’m sorry to hear that.”

“Nah… I’ve already given up disappointment at this point. Anyway, I just wanna basically come by to say that you’re pretty good. I mean, I couldn’t help notice you’ve been playing a lot of Horseshoepin’s stuff since I got here.”

“Is… that a problem?”

She shook her head. “I never said that. You mind if I sit down?”

Meekly, he scooched over to let the mare sit next to him. “So… any requests?”

“Do you know Horseshoepin’s Nocturne uh… Opus nine number… two I think.”

“What? You mean the one that starts out.” He played out the first few bars in which the mare brightened up.

“Yeah! That’s it. Before I just go home, would you mind playing that for me at least?”

So after taking in a deep breath, Horseshoepin lifted his hooves to the keys to let the instrument sing.



At first, he paid attention to the internal echo of the piano as it began to sing a lamenting but dreaming solo. One that wished for days gone by, of simpler times that was familiar but beautiful all the same. He glanced over to the mare that had her eyes closed and had a relaxed smile.

“Ya know,” she remarked, “this is probably the most perfect version I’ve ever heard.”

“You don’t say, ma’am?”

Her smile boarded a little. “It’s so smooth but… I don’t know… It still has life, you know? Sure, I’ve played this before, but I’ve never got anywhere this... well, dreamlike. I don’t hear a note of it out of place and yet, you make it sound so effortlessly.”

Horseshoepin blushed. “T-Thank you.”

She opened her eyes. “Point being, I think you have a gift is all.” The mare paused for a moment to hear the instrument swell a little in its song of loneliness. “How long have you been playing?”

“Can’t say… all my life I would think. I have spent so many years at the keyboard that I didn’t bother to count.”

“And it shows. I mean… with a sound like that, it’s enough to make anyone cry.”

“I’m just a pianist.”

“Don’t be so modest.” She gave him a light pat on the back. “You have serious skills with this that I think you should be at those fancy concert halls.”

“I just needed the job is all. I’ve recently come here with an old friend of mine.”

“Ah… I see.” There was another pause between them. “Where are ya from anyway?”

“Końland.”

“That far away?” She raised an eyebrow.

“It’s… It’s complicated. Gone from there to Paris to… well, here. Not by choice, mind you. But my friend and I are just trying to do what we can like everypony else.”

“What’s your name anyway?”

That question was almost enough to make him stop playing the piano. However, he took a moment to consider how to answer this question. “Heartstring Horseshoepin.”

The mare paused. “Horseshoepin? Like… are you related to-”

“Fryderyk is my great-great-great-granduncle.” He lied. “I’m the few in my family that is able to play my ancestor’s pieces well – although I can’t say if it is as good as he was.”

He heard the mare snort. “I’d say you are. That’s actually really cool if you ask me. You should get more ponies to hear you play more often.”

“I uh… I don’t like large crowds.”

“Why not?”

“Well… I’m just somewhat shy is all.”

“But you’re playing for me, and these guys in the restaurant.”

“That’s because there’s not many around and you’re nice…” Horseshoepin blushed at making this compliment.

The mare next to him giggled. “Really? You think I’m nice?”

“Well… you were not rude or any of the such. And you’re just… easy to talk to without getting too nervous…”

“Aww, that’s sweet of ya, really. Since my intended date has been nothing but a disaster, hearing that is needed. I guess that makes all the defense in the world, doesn’t it? To hear some kind words after something so heartless. A little sweet word is helpful on a night like this. So, yeah, thanks for that.”

“O-Of course ma’am.”

As the piece was getting close to its finishing bars, the mare stood up. “The name’s Orange Leaf, by-the-way, I guess I should get going but thanks for the music – and the talk.”

“Ah, well I hope that the night would be easier on you.”

“I’ll be fine. But still, I did mean when I say that you have a gift, Mr. Horseshoepin. Maybe I’ll see you around sometime.”

“Perhaps. I’ll be here during the dinner shift all week, should you want to see me.”

She smiled. “I’ll keep that in mind. Good night, Mr. Horseshoepin.” With that, she walked out of the restaurant while he finished the final bars of the piece.

“Wow.” Horseshoepin swing around startled to find Liszt there. “In a new world for a few days and already you’ve got yourself a marefriend. I’m impressed.” He added with a teasing smile.

The earth pony pianist’s blush deepened. “N-Now wait a minute! We just met, and she was having a disappointing night, so she wanted somepony to talk to.”

“Of course, that’s what happened.” Liszt rolled his eyes with an amused smile on his face. “Anyway, since it’s getting close to closing time, I wanna take you somewhere that I think would interesting.”

“Like what?”

There was a mischievous smile that crept on his muzzle. “Have you ever been to a modern dance hall?”





In the few days since he started working in Las Pegasus, there was a place that caught Lully’s curiosity. Next door from the casino, was a building that at night had the sound of continuous thumping coming from the inside. What caught his intrigue was that it didn’t sound like a machine, at least, not the way that he knew. There was a rhythm to it, something like an odd-sounding drumbeat.

On the surface, the squat looking building was made out of brick with a door in front that was guarded by a pony made up of macule. Above was a brightly illuminated neon sign that didn’t seem out of place among the strip. A complicated twist of brilliant pipes to form letters and hearts that seem to beat. The words formed in buzzing blue was: Heatbeatz Club. Part of him thought that the name was rather appropriate on the account that the very building itself sounded like it has a heartbeat.

Lully had gotten off his shift and stood outside of the casino and out of uniform, trying to figure out what he ought to do now.

“Hey, it’s you again.” The zebra turned to find Fancy and Fleur, calling out to him as they approached him. The mare who spoke waved at him. “Are you off duty I take it?”

“No Madame, I was placed on probation for good behavior.”  This got the newlyweds to chuckle. “Truth be told, I’m not exactly sure what I should do with the spare time I have. Where are you two going?”

“Well, Fleur wanted to go to one of the newer dance clubs in the city.” Fancy explained. “In fact, we were thinking of taking a look at the one next door to see if it’s any good. So far, we’ve heard some good things about it.”

Lully turned towards the squatty building next door. “Ah, I see. If it’s not too much to ask, may I join you as I’m rather new to Las Pegasus myself?”

The couple glanced at each other. “Well… I don’t see why not. Are you any good at dancing?”

Lully grinned, “Oh quite Mousier. Although… how do we get in?”

“Leave that to us,” Fleur said the three of them went over to the next building in which, after paying for paper bands to be placed on their forehooves, they were allowed entry.

Once inside, they walked into a very dark space that was only lit up by neon, spotlight, and a tiled floor that lit up every time someone stepped on one. Depending on where he moved to, Lully noticed the white portion of his striped coat gave off bright, unnatural colors from brilliant blue, purple, green, pink, and orange. In the center was a dance floor where most of the activity took place were ponies dancing to the deafening music that was controlled by a single pony by a machine up in front. Along the walls were either a bar or booths with drunk, easily excitable ponies that hooted and hollered.

“What you say we have a few drinks before head to the dance floor?” Fancy asked as he gestured over to the bar. Lully saw the bar was made out of glass and mirrors as the bazaar lights not only made it glow but change colors right before his eyes. The three of them approached the bar in which they ordered a few drinks. “So, Monsieur Lully,” Fancy began, “what exactly did you do before you came to Equestria?”

The zebra tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

“What occupation did you have?” Fleur explained. “Did you have a job in Prance?”

“I had, yes,” Lully said, picking up his glass. “A long time ago, I used to not only play music, but I composed too. Mostly dances you see. But now… I have fallen out of favor as of late.”

“Oh, dear.” Fancy gave a sympathetic pat on his back. “We’re sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t be,” he waved it off, “I guess it’s bound to happen eventually. Sure, I’m an antique now, but when things went right for me, I managed to make Kings dance to my tunes. However, times have changed.”

“Maybe you could try your luck here,” Fleur said with an optimistic smile. “You said so yourself that you’re looking for a new change of pace. Well, Equestria might give your musical talents a chance for anyone to listen to.”

Lully shook his head. “I wrote my works that were in style and to glorify the ponies that I wrote them for. But listen to that...” He looked over at the DJ that changed the tempo of the beat that thumped through the speakers. “I don’t know if I’m able to compete with something that’s able to make a crowd like that dance.”

“Well, you never know until you try.” Fancy objected. “As someone who set trends, especially among the wealthy would tell you, is that ponies will be attracted to anything that’s new. In regard to this crowd, just keep in mind that they’re not the rule compared to the many kinds of modern music. With them, all you need is a good beat to get them hooked.”

‘If only I knew how…’ Lully silently lamented.

Fleur spoke up. “Do you happened to bring your music over with you?”

“That’s the funny thing, Madame.” Lully tapped his forehead. “Everything that I ever made is all right here in my head. I don’t know if I’ll be able to find any copies, I would certainly be able to write it all down if I had something to write with.”

“Well, then…” Fancy said before downing his drink. “Perhaps you should let us hear what you have. If it’s any good, then perhaps we could pull a few strings to get a Royal hearing.”

This got Lully’s attention. “You could do that?”

“I’m friends with some of the Royal Family. So it shouldn’t be a problem for me.” He said as he puts a few bits on the bar. “Right then, let’s dance.” But before he or his new wife could leave, they noticed that Lully remained there, transfixed.

He was holding a coin that Fancy put down. It was one of those newer ones that had the face of a youthful, unicorn stallion with a short mane. “Who is this?” He asked.

Both of the newlyweds blinked. “Prince Shining Armor,” Fleur answered before adding. “Don’t you know him? He’s been around for a few years now.”

Lully, however, didn’t answer as he felt the smooth face of the coin. His mind lost in thought as it brought him back to Prance.

It was back at a time when Prance had a young Royal on the throne. Lully still remembered his face well – youthful but undoubtedly a stallion. With a mane of antique gold with a royal blue coat that covered his form. The unicorn had signs of strength but it too was crafted to perfection as if he were a living ancient Pegasi statue. Even from the first day he came to his graces, Lully knew that the crowned Louis XIV was different from all other kings. He was perfumed with ambition, spoke in a voice of confidence but elegance, even the light from Celestia’s sun seemed to bless him.

He remembered his most important moment of his life – the first time that his ballet was about to be played to the court, and the king himself shall be dancing as the star. It was the most ambitious piece he ever wrote that the ballet itself would go on throughout the whole night and finishing with the literal sunrise of the King. While this was a great honor by itself, he knew that he must take the opportunity to solidify the one thing he wanted most.

As he recalled, it was in the early hours of the morning when the sun was about to rise as Lully, carrying a velvet box underneath the stage towards the king. “Sire!” He called out. “I have a surprise.”

The King, while in a golden costume with his servants making last-minute touches stood on a platform that will soon raise him up said: “No time. The sun will rise soon. If I stop now, I’ll never be ready.”

“But it is a royal surprise.” Lully insisted. “So that they may see you as never before.” The composer offered up the box to him in which the King’s servants opened it up to show him golden dancing shoes with Celestia’s sun on them. “You are stubborn like me. Fortunately, you’re just as curious as me. A fine fault, even in a King.” One of the shoes was taken out in which showed that it had a red stilt at one end. “Consider it as a little stage to carry with you, from which Your Majesty can command the world.”

At first, Louis thought that it was madness to dance in shoes that he wasn’t familiar with at the last minute. “I wore them myself,” Lully reassured, “to break them in. See how agile they are. With these, you’ll tower over the greatest of ponies. I do swear upon my mother’s gravestone, that I do want what is best for you. To drool with awe… to acclaim you, for I wish to see you happy.”

While the King did have these shoes be put on his hooves, he said to Lully. “I warn you: If I fall, you will go right back to Istally.”

“And if you don’t fall, Sire?”

Louis looked at him, “What would you want most?”

“To be Prench, Majesty. Istallions are despised in Paris, but I assure you that my heart belongs to Prance. Only my tongue still stubbornly resists. If it is to be your wish, I will cut it out. For it serves no purpose for playing music or dance.”

This was enough to make the King smile. “Once I am truly the King, you shall be Prench.”

Lully blinked, “But… you are king.”

“Only on stage, Baptiste. The realm of Music and Dance is all my mother and her ministers allow me. But once I have secured to all rights and privileges, and you will become Prench by my word.”

Then the trapdoor above was opened and Lully watched the King being raised to the stage. “As you wish… my King.”

As he felt the face of the coin in his hoof, Lully’s feeling of longing suddenly busted out when something strange happened. An explosion of brilliant light filled the dancing club in which the dark club seemed to transform before his and everyone’s eyes and ears. Everypony saw that there were now golden statues, marble columns, candles, and bright sunlight. Even the clothing that the ponies found themselves wearing caught everyone off guard as they were a mix of their modern t-shirts, sunglasses, and glow stick bracelets with elaborate overcoats, white powdered wigs, and dresses that blended both old and new. Even the DJ was taken aback as there was more of him holding something a mix of classical instruments with a modern twist of having buttons, lights, and dials.

Lully heard Fancy’s voice say something, but he was looking at himself… in the clothing that he was familiar with from the curly wig to the conductor’s staff in his hoof. But before he could ask what was going on, fireworks popped from the center of the dance floor where up rose a pony that seemed to be made out of light itself. A stallion’s form that almost looked as if he was surrounded by ethereal fire that burned neither him nor those around.

The composer raised his staff that he noticed the other DJ’s raised their instruments, waiting to begin. But when his eyes turned toward the new stallion’s face, one that resembled that of the coin, he felt that longing inside of him. He saw how the stallion was positioned as if he were waiting for his cue. Clearing his throat, he felt compelled to say, “Le Roi, Danse!” before he started to conduct.



What he heard was undoubtedly his music, but at the same time… it almost wasn’t. The sound resembled that of the noise that he came in, but now the notes were organized enough to register that it was his own. Even with the electrical, metallic tones, it was still carried that elegance and harmony that at the burst of its louder reprisal, the glowing stallion began to dance.

The dancers from the club watched this mysterious pony danced in a way that was part ballet in grace in movement, but modern in how he moved. It was wild but précised. He danced like a flickering flame as the hooves and neck twist one moment and reform the next. But all the while, there was something within those movements that commanded Majesty to all who see it as he moved with the rhythm and time to the marching music.

But just as the stranger had appeared, he, along with the sudden change in atmosphere disappeared as he bowed with the closing of the music. Suddenly, the bright and splendor space gave way back to the dark dance club with all its neon lights. Even the clothes had faded with everything else, but even at this small special, it was enough to get applause from those that were in the club.

“Did you do that?” Lully finally snapped out of it to realize that Fancy Pants was talking to him. He looked at the couple who were awe-struck. “Was that all you?”

“I…” Noticing that his conducting staff and clothes were gone, he blinked as he returned the same amount of confusion back. “I don’t know what that was. But whatever that was… I think I saw a ghost dancing.”

“Who was it?” Asked Fleur.

Choosing his next words carefully, he replied: “Someone I once knew, and cared deeply about.”
> 13: Maneler’s Funeral March in A Minor
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The Crystal Train was moving Eastward towards Canterlot, and by morning, the countryside had become less mountainous and replaced with thick forests where every half-hour or so they passed a small village or rail station. One of the few to be awake onboard the train was Maneler as he was up since the crack of dawn. He was observing the twilight of the sky change color among the trees that seem to flicker as the train speed on. With a cup of coffee in his cloven hoof, he sat there in the very back of the railcar in peace while in the sleeping quarters, Schubit was snoring away.

Eventually, the stillness was interrupted as the sliding door to the caboose was opened. Professor Key stepped through and was cautious to walk quietly towards where Maneler was sitting. Opening the door to the observation deck, he said, “I hope I’m not interrupting you.”

“Not exactly.” He said between sips. “How far are we to Canterlot?”

“We most likely should arrive there by tomorrow, I think. But I had an idea that I want to talk to you about.”

The deer raised an eyebrow. “Involving what?”

Closing the door behind him, the Professor took a seat across from him. “I’ve been thinking about what you said after we left Sires Hollow. About how you were able to actually speak with your daughter again.”

“Oh, I see.” Maneler put down his mug. “You want me to repeat it again for your own benefit.”

He shook his head. “Not mine… Inverno’s.”

The deer blinked. “Pardon?”

“Let me explain.” Key took a moment to clear his throat. “Lately, my student has some rather mixed feelings about his biological father. On the one hoof, he knows the truth about him. He knows of the torcher chambers, the slavery, the cruelty that he carried out behind his back. On the other… he still sees him as his father. Prince Shining and I have begun to suspect that perhaps the colt hasn’t found the closure to reconcile over what he knows and feels about Sombra. After all, he never got the chance to say goodbye to him. Many ponies like him can’t speak to the dead to tell them what they really think and feel about them to move on. You, however, can.”

Maneler took in a deep breath. “Professor, I understand where you’re coming from but… I don’t know… I don’t know how exactly this type of new magic works or its dangers. And even if I did, this is Sombra we’re talking about. One of the most notorious monsters in Equestrian history.”

“And Inverno’s father.” Key pointed out. “Just tell me one thing: when you were able to talk to your daughter again, were you able to actually touch her?”

He shook his head. “No, my hoof went right through her. But still, I can’t say it would be the same for all spirits that it raised.”

“Look,” the old professor sighed, “you have to understand that everyone on this train - we care about Inverno. He’s the innocent that has been caught up in these unfortunate circumstances. His father, the only family he knew had died, the Empire for a while thought of him to be as big of a monster as Sombra was, and what’s more… he’s lonely for the companionship of those who are like-minded to him. If I had any power, I would have him be my grandson as I’ve never met a colt who is not just talented, but he’s a good colt who deserves to be happy and away from the shadow of his father's. I want to help him, but I can’t do it alone.”

“I don’t know…”

Maneler felt a hoof on his shoulder. “He considers you as a father figure, you know.”

The deer blinked. “He does?”

“Yes, at least in a sense. After what you said to him at Rainbow Falls, he sees you as something like a family. All I’m asking is to give him the same opportunity to make peace with his past, as you did with yours.”

The two of them fell into silence as Maneler witness the sun finally breaking through the tree line. “Does Inverno want this?”

“I think that it would be for his own good to finally tell Sombra what has been on his mind.”

Another pause. Shutting his eyes tight and taking a deep breath, he finally said, “Stop the train.”





The train stopped at a ghost town. All around, the abandoned town had no signs of anypony around with only the facades of the wooden buildings still standing while others have been reduced to a pile of planks and rust. The first thing that Inverno noticed as they stepped off was how quiet everything was. Only the wind and the chirping birds were heard in the silence.

Although he was told what was going to happen, he still felt completely unprepared. On the one hoof, there was an anticipation of finally meeting the pony who he knew for most of his young life. On the other, there was dread that sat at the bottom of his heart.

“You know that nopony is forcing you to do this.” Shining reminded him.

Inverno nodded. “I know…”

“But are you sure that you want to meet him?”

The colt hesitated for a moment before nodding. “I have… so many questions to ask… so many things to say…”

Hoofsteps were heard behind them and Inverno glanced over to where the train, the guards, Schubit, and the Professor were to see Maneler walking up to them.

“I can’t promise that I might successfully recreate what happened in Sires Hollow.” He said. “But if this does work, then all I ask is for you to stay close by me.” Looking down, he added: “Are you sure this is what you want?”

Taking hold of Shining’s hoof, Inverno nodded.

“Very well,” Maneler nodded, “I must ask of everypony here for silence. If this is to work, I need silence and no interruptions. That means don’t speak, don’t sneeze, don’t fart, don’t cough or move for that matter if this is to work. And please, be patient with me.”

Inverno saw the deer sat on his hunches while he raised his hooves up as if he’s about to lead on an orchestra. In that silence, Maneler glanced this way and that with a piercing gaze as if he was scanning for anything out of place in this ghost town. After a solid minute with nothing but a breeze blowing in the trees, he closed his eyes hard to concentrate. The colt saw in his eye a tear forming before whispering one word: “Mareia,” before he started to conduct.



At first, a lone trumpet was heard with a drum-like rhythm. It started so simply and soft, but once it reached a higher note, everything, including the wind became still. There was something in the air that every unicorn present could feel was being charged with shivering energy. Then as the trumpet became louder with a full orchestra marching in, Maneler exploded in a flash of light. A blinding moment later, and the illusion took place where they stood at the imposing cast-iron entrance of a graveyard, and Maneler himself wore a black funerary suit and top silk top hat.

Now a rolling drum stiffens the deer as he ceased conducting and opened his eyes. Looking this way and that, he instantly knew that it has worked once again. Looking over to Shining and Inverno, he said in a stoic but serious tone, “Forward march,” before he began to walk past through the gate.

Not wanting to let go, he and Shining followed Maneler behind as they walked among the graves. At first, they could see nothing beyond the foggy tombstones and statues, or monuments that seemed to loom over them. But as they continued to follow the deer further, all-around their eyes caught some kind of movement but couldn’t make it out at first. Then slowly, they could make out outlines of moving hooves, faces, manes, and tails that pieced together the forms of ponies. All of them they can see right through as if they were apart of the mist that was around them.

Inverno looked over to Shining, “Who are they?”

Shining looked around, “I’m not exactly sure… None of them look…” Inverno noticed him trailing off where his eyes widened. The colt scanned over towards the direction that his dad was staring. He found a hoofful of guards nearby, who were just as stunned as Shining was.

“Dad, I think we have to keep moving.” Inverno urged, “We might lose Mr. Maneler in this fog.”

Glancing between him and the ghostly guards, Shining exchanged a wave with them before he had to move on – all the while stopping for a moment to look over his shoulder.

Maneler leads them through the cemetery until he suddenly stopped at another iron gate. In the thick fog, the fencing was in a ring that surrounded a stone gazebo with a black sarcophagus. A shadow sat on top of it with its back against them. “This is as far as I go.” He said as he looked back at them. “Are you sure you want to do this?”

“You know you don’t have to,” Shining added.

Inverno nodded. He and his dad opened the gate and walked into the enclosed ring. A hurricane of emotions swirled and collided within the colt as he saw the silhouette of his father. His hooves shook in fear, his heart was sunken in dread, his eyes in anger, his mouth in excitement and longing to reunite. Even when he and Shining stopped halfway, Inverno was petrified to move any closer or to say anything. He felt a hoof on his back and his dad whispering in his ear, “No matter what happens, I’ll be right here beside you.”

A gulp was heard as Inverno gained the courage to take a few more steps forward. “P… Papa?” No response, so he moved a little closer and called out a little louder. “Papa?”

The shadow’s ears perked up. “Inverno?” To the colt, that voice, that deep but concerned voice was unmistakable. Sombra scanned through the fog, “My son? Where are you?”

“Turn around, Papa.”

So he did. Sombra whirled around in which he finally saw him. Instantly he got off his ebony coffin to rush over to him. “SON!” He cried out, his forehooves reaching out to embrace him – only to go right through him as Inverno covered his face in fear. The ghost of the tyrant froze when he felt nothing in his hooves and turned around to see him crowding. “Inverno? Inverno, what’s going on? What’s wrong?” He tried to reach out his hooves to him but try as he might, it only went right through.

“D-Don’t hurt me…”

Sombra was taken completely aback, almost in shock. “What did you say?” When Inverno didn’t reply, he took notice of the other pony that was with them. “Shining Armor? What are you…” He paused as he looked between him and his son that was showing fear of him. Suddenly, his eyes glowed in rage. “What did you do to my son!?” He tried to pounce on him, only to find that like Inverno, he simply went through him, even with the punches, bites, and kicks he tried to inflict, it had no effect at all. “What in Tartarus is going on!?”

“Inverno wants to talk to you,” Shining said sternly. “While he still can.”

“While he still…” Sombra turned back to his son. “Inverno, whatever he told you, don’t believe his-” Although he didn’t feel it, his words were cut when his own son had tried to slap him across the face. But what made it worse, was the look in Inverno’s eyes as they were glowing red.

“How could you?” He said aloud. “After all this time, of everything you taught me, of everything you told me… you lied to me.”

“Son that’s not-”

“No!” The colt snapped at him. “You lied to me every, single, step of the way! You lied to me that you were a good king! You lied to me that the Princesses of the South were dangerous! You lied about how the slaves served us willingly! You lied to me how you were kind, or wise, or honest, or just!” Inverno stopped on the ground in which glowing red cracks formed around his hoof-like broken glass.

“Son,” Sombra raised his hooves. “You must calm-”

“But most of all!” Inverno continued to rant. “You lied about we were beloved by our subjects when they were afraid and hated you! Hated us! So what?! Did you also lie to me about that you play the music that I spent days writing for you?! Or that you didn’t kill the slaves that could have been my friend!? Or did you lie to me every time you said you loved me!?”

Another, powerful stomp and Sombra’s tomb, as quick as lightning formed glowing red cracks before it was instantly reduced to rubble. Nopony spoke in that stunned silence, nothing was heard except for the music that continued to be poured out of Maneler.

But as sudden as that bust of anger came, Inverno's eyes faded into tears. With a head bowed low and hooves over his eyes, he cried. “I-I just wanted to hear you say the truth…”

With a sigh, Sombra went over to his son and sat beside him. “What do you want to know? What would you have me say?”

Inverno sniffed. “I just want to know… Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why did you lie to me? About what the whole world is like and to have me locked up in an apartment for all my life.”

There was a pause. “You’re not going to like it.”

Another sniff from the colt. “Tell me.”

“No, you are really not going to like it.”

“He needs to know the truth,” Shining said, narrowing his eyes. “It doesn’t matter how unpleasant it is, if there’s any chance for you to resolve this in peace, you have to tell him the truth, the whole truth, and nothing except the truth.”

Sombra hesitated before turning to his son. “Inverno, look at me.” He did so. “Son… the truth is that before you were born, the world I knew from the Crystal ponies has taught me was that if you were different, if you were not in any way like them, there is no opportunity for you. There is no kindness, no acceptance, no way for you to do what you want to do. And because they exclude you, they will still punish you for not knowing things or be as talented as they are. But I when became king, I swore that the dynasty I’ll leave behind will be one of genius. The family I will create shall be the smartest, talented, creative, prophetic children in not only the Crystal Empire, but the world to be as a shining beacon of civilization.”

“Wait,” Inverno interjected, “children? As in… more than one?” His father nodded. “Papa… Why didn’t you te-”

“Hear me out.” Sombra interrupted. “The truth is that you had other brothers and sisters… however, I made it so that none of you knew of the existence of the other. And I did so for good reason: throughout history, kings were overthrown by their own children, and even then, they wage war with each other for the throne. By keeping all of you separated and ignorant of one another, it made things easier to keep all of you in line.”

His son sniffed. “So… how many brothers and sisters did I had?”

“…. That depends, if you mean how many of them survived past the age of one, then you had two sisters and a brother. But under that, the last time I was alive… there were twelve infants.”

“But… did you know who mom was?”

He shook his head. “The perks about being a king is that you get to have your way with any mare you wanted, whether they like it or not. Some of them did get pregnant in which I had them being looked after until they’ve given birth, and after that… I banish them from the kingdom while telling them their foal has died so that they couldn’t be given any claim to power. As to your mother, Inverno… I don’t know where she is, or even if she’s alive.”

Inverno broke down crying again, to which Shining went over to hug him. “But why did you lock him up in an apartment when he was found, he was freezing to death?”

“Firstly, I made sure that I had all my children be as comfortable as possible in their apartments. It’s all for their security, I never lied to Inverno that the world outside was dangerous as I knew that the moment the slaves knew about his existence, they would want nothing more than to harm him. Now you listen to me, Prince Shining, I loved my children, every one of them.”

“You have a funny way of showing it.” Shining’s eyes narrowed. “But why was he nearly frozen to death?”

Sombra took in a deep breath. “A failsafe. I put a spell on all of their rooms that if something were to happen to me, like say… you and your wife came along to overthrow me for example, that if I died, I’m taking my family with me. So at least they would be spared the aftermath in the hooves of the Crystal Ponies.”

Shining picked Inverno up in his hooves and using his magic he placed him on his back.

“Just so you know,” Sombra added, “that colt you have on your back, he’s the real heir to my kingdom. Not you, or your wife. I may no longer be king, but if I catch so much as a whisper that my son is being mistreated by your hooves, I will bring down the heavens and raise fire from the earth to save him.”

“Mistreated?” Shining got in his face, “Says the stallion that cut off any chances of him having any foals of his own. You had him castrated!”

Sombra frowned, “Believe me, if I did have any other choice, I wouldn't consider it. However, you saw what he did to my grave, and if I hadn’t made him undergo the operation, he might have shattered the whole world in one temper tantrum. Besides,” he lifted a ghostly hoof to grace across his son’s cheek. “Teaching him to be a castrato was a tremendous honor that if I hadn’t done that, my son would never have the voice of an angel that he is ordained to have. If you heard him sing, you would know that it was worth the price.”

Disgust filled Shining’s face as he turned towards where Maneler was. But as he carried Inverno out, the colt looked at Sombra. “Goodbye Papa.”

“Wait!” The dark unicorn cried out as he rushed over and although neither could feel it, he nuzzled him. “Goodbye my Prince, you still have my love.”

Without turning around, Shining carried his son out of the ring and told Maneler that it was time to leave. The deer, who overheard everything, eyed Sombra who looked on and shook his head. While he did see that they came for, to the composer, part of his wish that the exchange never took place at all.





The train continued towards Canterlot, and Maneler was making his way through the crystal rail cars towards the front. When he reached the door of the Royal car, he knocked on the door, there he found the Professor.

“Maneler?” Key Signature blinked, “What are you doing here?”

“I want to speak to the colt.”

“Inverno?”

“It’s a personal matter, I wish to speak to him if that’s permitted.”

He was let in as he stepped aside. The deer found Inverno wrapped in blankets in a bunk bed while Shining sat next to him, rubbing a hoof on his back. Maneler bowed before asking, “How is Inverno?”

“Stable now, but still feeling down,” Shining answered.

“Ah…” he nodded. “I see.” Maneler gently walked up to the bed in which he laid himself down in front of it to where he and Inverno were at eye level. “Is there anything that I could do?”

Inverno shook his head. “I don’t know…”

“Look…” He glanced between him and Shining for a moment before saying. “I’m sorry for all that you’ve heard today. Especially when he told you that you had siblings… I just… I cannot say that I know exactly what kind of shock this is to you, but I, however, understand your pain.”

The colt sniffed. “How?”

“As I said before, my family is no stranger to death. I had brothers and sisters that had departed from this world far too soon – those who were so much cleaver and talented than I. Even after all these years, that emptiness never truly faded away.”

“But I never knew who they were.”

Maneler sighed as he rubbed his mane. “I agree, it is a tragedy. And I can see the pain in your eyes that you pine for what could have been. It’s at times like this that even I have to be reminded of what I still have. From what I’ve heard, you have a loving mother, a caring father, and a bouncing baby sister. Not only that, but you have friends who stand beside you such as the Professor and me. Although, between us, I’m not so sure about Mr. Schubit.”

Inverno sat up, “Really, we’re friends?”

“Why not? After all the misfortune that has come in your path, it’s always better to have someone to walk with. Or in this case, someone who has been down that path before.” He smiled, “Will you be alright?”

He nodded. “I’m just still shocked over the fact that I had brothers and sisters… It just, made me wonder whatever became of them.”

Out of the corner of Maneler’s eye, he saw Shining tense up at this. “I understand.” He replied. “Tell me, what do you like to do for fun?”

Inverno shrugged, “I like to create something.”

“Ah… That’s right, I forgot that you compose too.” Then he got an idea. “Have you ever written a symphony before?”

“Well, sort of. Professor Key did the rearranged for other instruments when I only knew how to write for the organ or the piano.”

Eyeing the piano, Maneler waved a hoof at it. “So how about it? How about I teach you the basics of composing a symphony?”

Inverno happily agreed to it.
> 14: Blossoming in G Major
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

As much as he hates to admit to himself, Paganeighni was right. In a matter of days, ponies in the market place have kept returning to be seduced by the black griffin’s violin tricks. Vifilli didn’t exactly agree with the style as most of the time - to his ears - the other violinist wasn't even trying to make something beautiful out of his virtuosity. That annoyed him the most, but for whatever reason, it did bring in bits where they’re able to share a room and some food.

Which was why he decided to leave the marketplace and start heading towards the more quiet places to clear his head. Walking down a trail that had more trees and the houses became more spread out. As he walked down this path, he noticed there were more birds and small animals that duck out of sight when he passes by. Next to the trail, a stream flowed peacefully where there grew wild grass, lily pads and cattails. However, the further up he went, the more he noticed there were more nests and birdhouses that hang from the trees.

Then he paused as his ears perked up. Somewhere up ahead was a voice singing sweetly as a nightingale playing the flute. His curiosity drove him to walk further towards the voice. There he found a cottage where the nests, birdhouses, and burrows were at their plentiful. One with many windows and a grass roof that looked like a mound with a door in the front. But it was nearby this home near a patch of flowers that he found the source of the voice.

It was a yellow mare in a gardening hat, a watering can, and the packet of seeds that were nearby. To the composer’s wonder, she was singing to the animals that were helping her plant these seeds in her garden.

‘Such a voice,’ Vifilli thought, ‘would be worthy among the angles.’

He walked towards her, making sure that each step was loud enough to let the mare know of his approach. He even cleared his throat to catch her attention. “Pardon me-”

“EEP!” the yellow Pegasus jumped in the air, swinging around to see who was there.

“Forgive me, I didn’t mean to startle you.” He bowed. “I was curious when I heard singing.”

After taking several deep breaths to calm herself down, she said. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting anypony to come by today.”

“To be fair, I didn’t think I would come by here either. I was taking a walk to clear my head, you see, when I heard your voice.”

“Oh…” she tilted her hat to hide her embarrassment.

The two of them stood in awkward silence, Vifilli tried to figure out how to start a conversation, looked over to the cottage. “I take it that this is your home?”

She nodded.

“I’ve never seen anything like it, with so many birds and animals about.”

“I take care of them.”

The composer tilted his head. “Sorry?”

“It’s part of my job, I look after animals, mister…”

“Vifilli, Antonio Vifilli. And I don’t believe I caught your name.” The mare rather shyly and quietly whispered her name. “Flutter… shy...” This caught the yellow Pegasus by surprise as normally she had to repeat her name a few times for anyone to catch it. For the curly orange mane stallion, he repeated the name like how one tasted wine the way he said it slowly, rolling his tongue. “Flutter shy, Fluttershy, Fluttershy…” He nodded. “A modest name.”

“Um… thank you?” Fluttershy tilted her head. “I guess I could say that your name sounds… exotic. Not many ponies have that name. Antonio.”

He shrugged. “You’d be right. I’m not from Equestria actually.”

“Oh?”

“Born and raised in Venice, to tell you the truth.”

Fluttershy blinked. “Isn’t that in Istally?”

“Yes. I used to be a priest there, so there’s no need of being timid around me.” He looked over to the garden. “If you would permit me, would you like some assistance?”

“Well…” she looked at the other animals that were looking up at her, “I suppose that you can help to water the seeds before I bury them. That is if you don’t mind.”

“Of course.” He took hold of the watering can with a wing, to which the mare resumed with her animals to planting seeds. “Do you sing often?”

“I didn’t mean to have anypony hear that…”

“So I presume that’s a no?”

She shook her head.

“Hm… That’s rather a shame actually. A voice like that, why, ponies all over Venice would flock over to hear it. I had taught many fillies to sing like that.”

“You’re a music teacher too?”

“In a manner of speaking, I was. To orphan fillies that I used to give lessons to.”

This caught her attention. “Orphans?”

He nodded. “Yes, every student I had were orphan girls until I was dismissed honorably. In those days, I taught them how to sing, how to play the violin, viola, cello, harpsichord, flute, oboe, piccolo, guitar… I could go on, but at one point, I taught them how to play as an orchestra. Complete with a choir too with singers that could easily go hooftip to hooftip with even the most virtuosic opera singers.”

“I take it that you’re that good of a teacher?”

Vifilli sighed. “Yes, very good. I mean, not to brag, but for several years, the ponies there tend to come towards our place of worship then they did the opera house every week to hear what I’ve prepared for them. I wish you could hear them sing and play for Our Lady Celestia, each service they let out music that would make all the angles of eternity sound… tone-deaf.”

“That sounds lovely.” Fluttershy smiled. “I wish I could sing like that.”

“What makes you think you can’t?” He looked at the animals that planted the seeds before he poured some water in. “Even the birds and these creatures admire it when I walked up the road.”

She paused for a moment, “I’m rather… self-conscious of my singing. Especially among crowds of ponies, oh…” the mare shuttered, “I just freeze up when everypony’s eyes are on me.”

“Ah, stage fright.” Fluttershy nodded. “But when I walked up on the road, what made you compel you to sing?”

To that, the mare waved a hoof all around her. “It was such a lovely day; the animals were so happy, and the birds were sweetly chirping that… it just came to me.”

“Inspiration… I know that feeling. That at times it comes out of nowhere like a voice from heaven or from the sheer beauty of the simplest of things.”

“You talk as if this happens to you a lot.”

Vifilli laughed, “When you’re composing, it comes naturally. I hear melodies everywhere, from the conversation of birds, the laughter of water, a storm, the sway of grain in a field, or even from the snow dancing in the wind. Or even at this moment too, I can hear it. A perfect concerto for a violin singing an ode to these flowers, of Spring, of…” He trailed off when he looked over at Fluttershy who was staring at him. “I must have let my mind wander off there, forgive me.”

“Oh, I don’t mind,” she said as she continued to dig up the dirt for the seeds, “if anything, I understand it. To be honest, it’s why I live here, to be close to nature as it gives me space to not only take care of them but to be inspired by what’s around me. So in a way, I can connect with you on that level.” Then one of the animals, who were holding onto the packets of seeds, turned one of them over into the little hole, only for nothing to fall out of it. “Oh dear…” she said, “I think we’re out of those seeds.”

“How much further do you have to go?”

“A long way, I’m afraid. Although, it’s a good thing that I’ve chosen today to do it. I knew it will take up all day. But I know that it will be worth it.” She stood up and started to make her way towards the cottage. “I’ll go see if there’s any more left. I’ll be right back.”

Vifilli watched the mare disappear behind the red front door of her home before he turned to the amount of unplanted ground that was still left to do. It stretched nearly around the inside of the fencing that would no doubt take several hours to complete such a monumental task.

‘The poor girl,’ he thought, ‘to plant all of these flours all by herself with no one but these creatures to help. Still, I wish there was a way to speed up the process just so I could spend more time with idle chatter with her. And I wish that I had my violin, so that I may play in gratitude for spending the time in her company. Especially on a beautiful spring day such as this…’ The stallion closed his eyes for a moment and lifted his hooves where he imagined his violin and bow in his hooves and underneath his chin. In his mind, he could almost see the string orchestra waiting for their cue to play.



As soon as his right hoof started to move, he began to hear the bright, lively opening of strings. In his mind, he could almost feel the neck of the violin to touch it and a bow to let it glide over. His daydream took hold at that moment to paint this moment into music, of a fantasy landscape of this mare’s piece of land. He envisioned the garden, still left unfinished and bare to suddenly be sprouted in every direction of spring petals in whites, butter yellow, pinks, blues, violets, and reds that pop out from the ground. He let the melody, like a painter with a brush, drew out warm, inviting colors and shapes of healthy, exotic plants to grow while drawing curious animals in.

Diving deeper into his imagination, his violin included the stream by the cottage to become a babbling brook. One that included swans and ducklings to grace among its waters. Yet, up above the cottage, he imagined a flurry of birds who twisted and summersault in the wind. With sparrows and doves, robins, and chickadees, they circled around at the abundance of food with bees who came to hover around the flowers for their honey. He could almost see the bees rushing from one patch of flowers to the next, greedily trying to get the limited pollen of each plant before moving to the next. He could just hear the angry buzzing of those insects that seemed to swarm around before they left.

But even still, this picture still wasn’t complete in Vifilli’s mind. His imaginary music then turned towards the cottage itself as he could hear the strings starting to climb upwards like quick-growing vines. Ones that latched onto the roof and curled around the birdhouses and chimney before they sprouted and blossomed into red roses. Almost like an intricate necklace, the roses bloomed into patterns that crisscross white ivy and forget-me-nots. In a way, he imagined the home’s roof to look like a crown of jewels.

However, before his daydream could play out the final note, he suddenly heard an “Oh… my…” before he opened his eyes up to a stunned Fluttershy and the new garden that had grown. Everywhere Vifilli looked, he was shocked to find that his daydream had suddenly become real from the abundance of flowers to the birds that circled about them. But most of all, in his hooves, a violin and bow faded away as the music suddenly stopped.

“Did…” Fluttershy trying to say, but was so astonished by the instant growth of her garden that she barely to get out the words: “Did you do all of this?”

“It’s a miracle,” Vifilli said aloud.

“What?”

“I… I did this… At least, I think I did.”

The mare took flight to hover over her home and the garden that sprouted. “It’s beautiful.” She then went up to the stallion and hugged him. “Thank you so much!”

Vifilli felt his cheeks warm up at this sudden embrace. “You’re welcome, my lady.”

Fluttershy was taken aback at the complement and hid in her mane from seeing her blush.

The sudden awkward moment was broken from a cough, which the two of them turned to a black griffin propping his head up with a claw on the fence. “There you are, I was beginning to ask myself where you’ve decided to wander off to.”

“Oh, uh…” The stallion stepped away from Fluttershy and towards the griffin. “What do you want?”

“Well, I was going to tell you that I got enough bits to get something to eat.” He held up a bucket overflowing with golden coins. “However, it looks like that you’re preoccupied at the moment. Shall I come back later or are we going?”

“Y-Yes.” He turned to the mare and bowed. “Thank you for letting me help, Ms. Fluttershy.”

“You too Antonio.” She waved. “Have a nice day.”

“Likewise.” So with that, Vifilli spread his wings as did Paganeinghni as they flew towards the town. Along the way, the red Pegasus couldn’t help but notice a smirk on his friend’s face. “What?”

“You… hypocrite.” He smiled widely.

“What are you talking about?”

“Ever since we’ve met and found out that you were a priest, you have been on my case of how much of a sinner I am for being stricken with lust by every passing mare that I play that violin to – now I find you growing flowers for that lady back there where it looked like she was moments away to having you deflower her.”

“That’s not what was happening!” Vifilli snapped at him.

“No? And all that sudden burst of magic when I arrived? C’mon, admit it, you were trying really hard to impress her. I can’t blame you for trying. She does have a good flank.”

The Pegasus snorted in disgust. “We were just talking, and I was helping her with her gardening. That was it.”

Paganeighni rolled his eyes. “Uh-huh, sure you were.” He said with heavy sarcasm. “Now come on, we have enough to eat at that café place downtown.”





Afternoons were usually slow for Dr. Assurance. Even in the bustling city of Applewood, he found that he didn’t have nearly as many clients to attend to at this time of day. Being that way, he found that he had more than enough time to go pick up lunch for himself and his secretary. Usually, he’s the one to pick up the food to order take out and returning with a bag or two for him and his employee to have for the next hour or so.

This time, however, as he walked into the office building with a bag of Neighponese, he noticed that his office door was ajar. “Hey, Pencil?” The mare behind the desk looked up. “Did anypony came in when I was out?”

“Yeah, just a few minutes ago.” She said as she lit up her horn to take the paper bag and separate their lunches. “It’s that homeless guy… Mr. Ski I think, he came in asking for you.”

“You mean he’s in my office now?” She nodded. With a sigh, he told her to keep his meal warm for him as he’ll go in to talk to him.

The office of Dr. Assurance was what one may describe as a small but comfortable place. Across from the door, there’s a huge window that looks out into the street that let in natural light. The walls were whitewashed with pictures of painted landscapes of forests and have framed degrees of the therapist’s credentials. There was a low bookshelf that stretched around the room that housed binders and books about psychology that held most of the knickknacks such as pictures of the doctor’s wife and some scented oils of orange blossoms. The only noticeable furniture in the room were two padded chairs that one of them had a clipboard in one seat and a Pegasus in the other.

“Mr. Ski,” the Doctor greeted, “this is unexpected, welcome to my office.”

The other stallion twisted his head over to him and instantly stood up. “Doctor, hello! Forgive me for arriving on such short notice.”

“Are you doing alright?” Assurance asked as he closed the door behind him. “Were you able to go to the shelter?”

Tchaicoltsky nodded. “At least I have someplace to rest my head at night, so I thank you for that.”

“And are you able to eat?”

“The mares at the soup kitchen have been very kind to me and was able to get just enough to get by.”

The therapist nodded. “Good. Good… So, what brings you to my office today?” He noticed the Pegasus hesitating as he rubbed one of his forelegs. “Is something the matter?”

“You did say that if I needed someone to talk to, I can turn to you, can I?”

He nodded. “Of course, you did save me a few nights ago. Would you like to take a seat and get comfortable?” After the Pegasus did so, he then further asked, “Would you like anything? We have coffee and tea in the building.”

Tchaicoltsky sighed. “Oh, I missed tea. But, if it wouldn’t be too much to ask, is it possible to have it made like they used to be in my country.”

“That depends, how so?”

“Well… It’s black tea that has honey and fresh raspberries. But if you don’t have-” he was cut off when the doctor opened the door to tell his secretary to fetch these things before closing the door.

“I think you’ll have it in a good ten or so minutes.” Dr. Assurance said as he picked up the clipboard and took a seat from the other chair. “So, Mr. Ski, tell me what’s on your mind?”

“If you don’t mind of me saying so,” the Pegasus began, “but what exactly do we do here? I know that you’re a doctor, but I’m not familiar with what exactly you do.”

“Ah. Well, it’s very simple. As a therapist, it’s my job to listen to my client where they just talk freely about whatever comes to mind. I listen and then try to help in whatever methods that are appropriate to your situation. And, don’t worry, whatever you say here will only be within these walls. As I’m obligated by law to keep your information confidential. My job is to simply listen and take down notes that I see fit.”

Tchaicoltsky raised an eyebrow. “That’s it?”

“That’s it.” He nodded.

“So… I can tell you my secrets, and you’ll never tell anyone?”

“Absolutely. Just so you know, this is a safe place for you. I guarantee that I had clients that have talked to me about pretty much anything and everything you could think of. So, you have my word that no matter what you say to me, I will not judge you. Because that’s not my job. What is, is to study you and how you see the world. So, whenever you feel comfortable,” he said as he crossed his hindleg, “you have my full attention.”

There was a tense moment between the two of them. Tchaicoltsky, with a million thoughts going through his head and his front hooves rubbing nervously. “I… I don’t know what to say.”

“It’s fine.” The doctor told him in a clam voice. “You don’t have to tell me your secrets. Just anything at all. Talk to me about whatever you’re comfortable telling me.”

“Um… alright.” He said shifting in his seat. “Perhaps… I could at least give you some idea what life for me is like up to this point.”

The doctor levitated his clipboard. “I’m listening.”

“Well… As I’ve said, I was born in Budyonny, in a town that I doubt you’ve ever heard of that’s deep in the countryside. My parents were well off, all things considering. I don’t remember much of my foalhood, I do recall have what my family said about me. How that I was sensitive when it came to any sudden loud noises. A good unexpected bang was enough to scare me into crying. Even a song played incorrectly was enough to send me into tears. However, I fell in love with good music almost immediately. In fact, the earliest pieces I wrote were songs for my mother when I was four years old. As a child, music poured out of me, so much so, that it gave me headaches trying to write them all down.”

“Did you ever have a good relationship with your family?”

“With my brother, sister, and my mother, yes. But my mother more so, who was ever so kind and held me whenever I cried. She was always amazed at the things I’ve written just for her, if anything, she saw a bright future in me with music. My father agreed when he sent me to boarding school. However, I hated it because as a child, being sent away to an alien place, far away from my family filled me with terror. As soon as I set hoof into that school, all those games and snacking on honey was over. I was sent there to be prepared for a job I knew that I would loath. It didn’t help much as I was away from them most of the time. Of course, we sent letters back and forth, but it felt so distant. In fact, the few times I was allowed home, it was for my mother’s funeral.”

“Oh…” Assurance’s ears folded back. “I’m so sorry to hear that.”

“I know I was fourteen at the time, but even today, I still feel that loss. You could say that when I returned to school, I spent most of those years crying. Misery followed me, even after I graduated to become a civil servant, but after a few months, I forced myself to quit so that I can pursue what I really wanted to do. So, I turned to one of the music academies that, fortunately enough for me, offered both training and a career. It took a few years, but I managed to earn the title of professor in music where I was to teach students and have time for composition.”

“Oh? You’re a professor?”

“Used to be. I used to have students that came to me to learn about singing to playing on the piano, my specialty. And it was there that I…” He trailed off and this got the therapist’s attention.

“What?”

“Forget it.”

“What were you going to say?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He sighed. “I know you said that I can tell you anything, but…”

Dr. Assurance placed the clipboard down on the arm of his chair. “Mr. Ski, is this something important that you feel you wanted to share with me?”

Tchaicoltsky opened and closed his mouth as if trying to find the right words to say. But he found that he couldn’t, he unexpectedly stood up. “This was a bad idea, I shouldn’t have come here.”

“Now wait a minute, what’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry for wasting your time, but I thought I could talk to you but that was a mistake on my part.”

“Mr. Ski.” the therapist said firmly. “I can easily see that something has been on your mind and it’s been troubling you. Now when I said that I will listen to you without any judgment, I meant it. I don’t know what has gotten you filled with anxiety, but I promise that whatever it is, would not shock me. You must understand that in the years I’ve been at this job, I had to interview criminal psychopaths, delirious and deprived ponies for years. Trust me, I’ve heard it all. Now I cannot force you to tell me what you don’t want to, but at the same time, I want to say that you can trust me with whatever is bothering you.”

Once again, Tchaicoltsky could sense that same unconditional compassion that radiated off from the doctor. But even still, should he take this gamble? What he said was very sincere, and that he promised that no matter what he says in that office, it’ll only stay there. He sat back down again. “Are you sure I can trust you?”

He nodded. “Without judgment or interruption.”

He took in a deep breath, then after several minutes in silence, he finally confessed. “I… preferred the company of uh… stallions.”

Dr. Assurance blinked. “And?”

Tchaicoltsky felt that his eyes were about to pop out of their sockets. “And? That’s all you have to say? And?! I just told you that I’m a pervert, and all you can say is ‘and?’ Aren’t you the least bit disgusted?”

After jotting down some notes, he shrugged. “Not really. There are plenty of clients I have that happen to be gay. I don’t fully know how Budyonny views homosexuality, but from what I can see, it must be awful if you had this much anxiety. I just want you to know that here in Equestria, we’re a little more open-minded when it comes to this. Psychologists here don’t see what you have as a sickness or a disability. You are what you are, and we can’t change that. Frankly, it's unethical for us to try. So, in this country, you have our acceptance.” As he spoke, the doctor saw his patient tearing up. “Are you alright?”

“You…” he sniffed. “You really mean that?”

The doctor didn’t say anything as he got up from his seat, went over to hug him. Tchaicoltsky instantly felt and could taste the sweet waves of kindness, compassion, and even love that was so potent, that he hugged him back as he wept in his acceptance.

“Trust me when I say this,” Assurance said, “it gets better. You have no reason to hide anymore.”

There was a knock on the door, followed by the voice of the secretary. “Excuse me, I have the tea? Should I come in?”

Dr. Assurance got up to open the door, where he took the tray off from her back to bring it into the office. After closing the door once more, he asked his patient if he’s going to be alright. “Yes, just take me a moment to recover.” Tchaicoltsky took in some deep breaths as the unicorn set the tray on the low bookshelf.

On the tray was a metal kettle of boiling hot water with two mugs with spoons, a box of black tea, honey, and a bowl of raspberries. As he was sitting the tray down, the doctor paused as he spotted the box of tea. On the small green box, was a black and white picture that was directly underneath the golden lettering that read: Tchaicoltsky Black Tea. What caught his eye and made him lift the box up to his face was that the old photograph that was on the box looked very similar to the Pegasus who was drying his tears. From the manecut to the beard, even the shape of the face looked uncannily similar to his patient.

“Is something wrong?” The doctor quickly turned around to the stallion.

“No uh… I just realized that I don’t exactly know how you’d like your tea.”

“Here.” His patient got up, “Let me do it. If we’re going to have authentic Budyonny tea, then let the Budyonnian do it.”

This got a laugh from the doctor as he stood aside but kept the box close to him.
> 15: The Canterlot Sonata in F Major (1st Movement)
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The first thing that struck Inverno as the train circled up Mt. Canter was how much of the land he could see. Farmlands, valleys, forests, rivers, lakes, mountains, hills, and deserts as the Crystal Train climbed higher; with a view that was massive as it was majestic. But what really got his attention was the city that rested near the top of the mountain, just clinging on the very side of it. Sombra used to tell him that the capital of the Princesses of the South was a dark and gloomy place where death reigned supreme. However, not only that wasn't the case, but what he can see was something that only the most majestic of music can reproduce.

       	Even up close when the train pulled into Canterlot station, Inverno was in awe. He had never seen or imagined anything like the capital of Equestria. A place of white marble with gold, blue, and purple onion-shaped domes, flying arches, and bridges, painted and tiled in bright colors of flowers, stars, suns, and moons. The only thing to come close to Inverno’s mind was that it looked like something out of the most exaggerated fairytales. Everywhere there were light, flowing fountains, and wealthy ponies in their finest going about.

       	“This place looks like what Moztrot would write.” He commented.

       	Shining shrugged. “I wouldn’t know, but it’s home to me.” He looked back at Schubit and Maneler, who was just in awe of the city as his son. Behind them, the Crystal Guards were standing in formation in front of the train station.

       	“So Buch should be here, right?” Inverno asked.

       	“As well as someone else,” Shining nodded. “Hey, Inverno? I was thinking that since we’ve been riding and searching for these guys for the last couple of days; do you think that you probably want to take a break, at least for tonight?”

       	“What’s there to do here?”

       	“Tons!” His dad laughed. “I mean, growing up here, there’s plenty to do. There are places to eat, a couple of movie theaters, arcades, I guess it all depends on what you want to do.”

       	His son looked behind him at the two composers. “What about them? Should we ask them too?”

       	After giving some thought, Shining turned around and approached them and his troops. At the same time, Professor Key was the last to get off the train. “Gentlecolts, after spending about a week of searching and riding this train, I think it’s high time that I’m giving you all a break. For tonight, I’m going to allow all of you to take a rest and enjoy the city. In the meantime, Schubit and Maneler shall have an escort as they too will be given some free time. However, it should be made clear that if you find something strange or happen to find the ponies we’re looking for, report it to me immediately. Otherwise, we’ll continue with the search tomorrow morning.

       	“Now I need at least two guards to be with these guys. Any volunteers?”

       	A brief moment, Shining scanned for any to step forward. And indeed, two of them did. The brothers' Offense and Defense. Shining assigned Offense to follow Maneler and Defense with Schubit.

       	“Alright then everyone, dismiss!” After the Crystal Guards saluted him before wandering off, Professor Key Signature approached the Prince. “So, Professor, is there anything you wanna do since you’re back in Canterlot?”

       	“Nothing that comes to mind.” He replied. “Although, I wouldn’t mind spending more time with my student. Not to mention that I’ve been missing my own bed since this journey has begun, so it would be nice to be home before leaving it tomorrow. But what about you? Is there anything you had in mind?”

       	“Yeah.” Shining nodded as he turned over to Inverno. “There is actually, I wanna see my parents and introduce them to my son. After that, I’m game for anything. Come on Inverno, let’s go meet your grandparents.”

       	



       	“I never thought I would ever see Canterlot.” Defense looked over to Schubit who said this. “It’s more magnificent than the illustrations I’ve seen.”

       	The guard tilted his head. “But you have visited Equestria, didn’t you?”

       	“Only in Sires Hollow.” The unicorn pointed out. “And not for very long. I mean, the only reason I came to this country was from a friend of mine. But when things turned sour, I moved back. It’s a real shame that I never got the chance to see more of this land.”

       	“You and me both. To be fair, this is me and my brother’s first time outside of the Empire.”

       	Schubit raised an eyebrow, stopping in the middle of the street. “Is that so?”

       	“It’s true. This whole mission is volunteers only, you know. My brother Offense and I joined on simply because we needed an excuse to just get out there and see what the rest of the world is like. I know we’re supposed to search for ponies like you, but between us, I just wanted to see what places like Manehattan, or Applewood, or even see what Canterlot looks like.”

       	“You should come to Whienna. Especially in the springtime when the flowers are out, and the trees are budding with new leaves. The countryside especially. It has forests and fields that you can let your soul wander in tranquility.” He signed. “Although, I can’t say if things there are the same since I have last known it.”

       	“Let’s keep going.” The guard said before continuing on their exploration of the city. “Since you’re here, I wanted to ask you something.”

       	“Yes?”

       	“Well… I know you’re from the past. Like early 800’s or something. So… I’ve been wondering, are you and the other guy taking this okay? I mean, being hundreds of years from what you’ve known.”

       	The unicorn sighed melancholy. “I admit, it took me a couple of days to figure out that this isn’t 828. One day I was dying of syphilis, the next I wake up in a wooden room on wheels, in a town that is both familiar and not at the same time. I found myself in a new body, a new world, and… apparently, with new abilities that I don’t know how to control or to activate. But do you know what’s worse? Finding out that you’ve been gone for nearly two hundred years?” Defense shook his head. “You realize that you can’t write or visit your friends or family anymore. I will give the colt credit that he’s trying to reach his hoof out in friendship, but I know deep down that he can’t replace the ones that I have gotten to know and have relied on.”

       	“What do you mean?”

       	“Apart from that I no longer have those that I personally know, I’m also poor too. A vagabond really, that relays on the mercy and kindness of my friends.”

       	“But… You’re a composer.”

       	Schubit snorted. “It doesn’t mean that I’m Beethooven. At least he gets money, and I hardly do! On some days I barely have enough to eat or find a place to rest my head. Oh, I compose alright, but only on any scrap of paper I could find. This is exactly why I’m shocked that I’ve been brought back to life. Because I didn’t think that in the short time I had, I didn’t think I did enough to be remembered long after my death.”

       	Defense shrugged. “Well, I guess you did something right.” When Schubit didn’t reply, he asked, “So… What do you want to do?”

       	“I’m not sure. What do ponies in these modern times do for entertainment?”

       	“I guess it depends, really. I mean, to be fair, us Crystal Ponies have only been introduced to things like movies, trains, the radio, concerts, dance clubs, and things like that for about a year now.”

       	“Dance clubs?” Schubit raised an eyebrow.

       	The guard took a moment to choose his next words carefully. “In a nutshell… they’re clubs for social gatherings. Meet ponies, dance, drink, that sort of thing.”

       	“Ah…” The unicorn nodded. “So, a soiree? It is funny how little things change.”

       	“Of course, I don’t know where one nearby is.”

       	“Then how do we know where to find…” Schubit froze as his ears straighten up. “Do you hear that?”

       	Defense stopped to listen. There was a curious thumping noise that had a derange beat. The two stallions looked about until they pinpoint where this odd noise was coming from. Within a minute, they located the sound was thumping from a flight of stairs that lead to a metal door. There was no sign to indicate what was there, which made it all the more perplexing to them. However, here the wild beat was at its loudest, and there wasn’t anything to indicate that they couldn’t come in.

       	When the door was pushed open, they were blasted with electronic, metallic, chaotic noise that nearly flung them back up the stairs. However, despite the loud music, what was behind the door was an entrance to a new world – one of darkness but brilliant streams of color. Neon pinks and blues, light greens, and yellow dance and nod to the beat, along with the ponies who bath in a dark purple light. It looked like something out of a fever dream as the two of them saw through the door the strange glowing tiles that shifted from one color to another, and the glowing ponies who dance.

       	Defense cupped his ears with his hooves in disgust. “Ugh! This was a bad idea! Let’s get out of here!” However, he noticed that Schubit refused to move. Instead, he was staring, and he asked him what he was looking at. To which, he pointed inside. The guard followed his hoof towards the very back of this noisy and colorful room, at the DJ’s who were making this racket. One was a unicorn with dark shades who had one hoof on the headphones and the other on switches. Next to the mare, was an earth pony that had his long mane down at an electrical keyboard that curiously enough, wore a fancy overcoat that was a couple of centuries behind.

       	“Why does he look familiar?” Schubit asked over the loud music.

       	Defense shrugged. “It’s probably just some guy-”

       	“No, his face… I know that face, he looks like…” his jaw dropped. “Oh, you have got to be joking!”

       	“What? Who?”

       	“And now! For the moment you’ve all been waiting for!” The DJ mare yelled out into a microphone. “Are ya ready for my dude, Mo Trotz?!” The dancers screamed in approval.

       	It didn’t take long for either stallion to realize who that the other DJ by the keyboard was. They have found Moztrot.

       	



       	Offense and Maneler had found themselves in the wealthier part of the city where crowds of ponies of the elite go to and from the expensive shops and comfortable restaurants. Ever since they left the station, the guard noticed how the deer next to him was quiet as he looked about the streets like a wandering ghost. Distant and lost in thought as he gazed at the ponies that walked by without giving them any notice.

"I know this is a dumb question to ask," Offense began, "but I take it you've been to Canterlot before?"

"A few times," Maneler nodded, "Most to conduct. Like I did with most other places."

       	“So is this place any different than from your time?” Offense asked.

       	“Huh?” Maneler blinked. “Oh uh… yes and no. But mostly no.”

       	“Really?”

       	“From what I can see, the lights are different. The last time I was here, they were beginning to convert from gaslight to electricity. Also, there are a few things in these shops that I have never seen before. But besides that, if it wasn’t for those things, I would not have guessed that this wasn’t 911. It’s uncanny how little times have changed.”

       	“But what about when we were in Vanhoover?”

       	“At least the change is noticeable with their skyscrapers, but here… it almost amazes me how similar the clothing is compared to my time.” He glanced down at the guard beside him, “Do you think that ponies are slow to change?”

       	“What do you mean?”

       	“Well… I mean, for being in the future from my perspective, one would think that there would have been tremendous changes. Such as new modes of transport, or fashion, or technology would be more… how do you say… avant-garde. Yet, looking around, besides a few key differences, it looks like any other city from the turn of the century. I have to admit, it’s a little disappointing.”

       	At a street corner, the two of them paused as the Guard scratched the back of his neck. “So… What do you want to do? Now that we have some free time, is there anything you like to do or see?”

       	Maneler scanned the street when his eyes came across a rather large marble building with banners and statues on its side. “Now that I think of it, there is something that I want to do.”

       	“Great, what’s that?”

       	“I want to listen to a concert. I was rather curious to hear what music is like in this modern age. Besides, do you see that building over there? That’s the Canterlot Music Hall, that place was under construction when I was alive.”

       	Offense raised an eyebrow at that statement. “Why do you bring that little trivial up?”

       	“Because the ponies who were building it promised that it would be the center of all musical culture. That it was going to be this holy of holies for the greatest works to be played in. A place that I wanted some of my music to be played in but thought it wouldn’t be worthy enough to be. However, since we’re here, I want to see what it’s like inside, and hopefully, we’d get to hear whatever music they’re playing.”

       	The guard asked him what they are playing. Maneler looked over to the banners that drifted in the mountain breeze. “Ah good. They are performing tonight. Looks like they’re playing Buch. I guess it wouldn’t hurt to get some tickets. Unless you wanted to do something else.”

       	Offense shook his head. “I was strictly ordered to follow you around. This means that where ever you go, I go. If you want to go in there, then I’ll have to come with you.”

       	Understanding this, Maneler approached the giant music hall of classical columns and golden pegasi statues playing lyres where the flow of the crowd was gravitating towards it. As soon as he got in line, he did receive some curious looks from the elite as they approached the ticket booth and eventually got them for box seats. The deer tried to ignore the stares as much as he could but their questioning, if not suspicious looks that they were drilling in the very back of his head was all the motivation he needed to usurer Offense and himself in.
       	
       	Into the foyer with its grand staircase of a rainbow of marble, twisted cast-iron railings, sparkling chandlers, and oil paintings of the great musicians of the past were on full, proud display. The only way Maneler could describe it was like stepping onto the set of a grand opera where it takes place in a noblepony’s home. Of course, it too was nearly overcrowded with ponies that had come for the concert, and the staring from them multiplied.

       	“Excuse me, sir?” The deer whipped his head around to a mare who addressed him. He half expected to see someone who was in an elaborate dress of lace and silk that would probably fit well with these wealthy Canternites. However, the white face he saw belonged to a unicorn that had on a close-fitted, dark green trench coat. Even her ghostly gray mane modest style seemed out of place for Maneler. “Sorry to bother you,” she said, “but I take it that you’re new here?”

       	“I… yes?” He tilted his head, “Sorry, who are you?”

       	“Call me Tranquility.” She said as she offered a hoof up to him. “I’m rather new to this too.”

They shook hooves.

“Why are they staring at me?” Maneler asked.

“My guess is probably because we never have seen a deer in the city before. Especially when you have a Royal Guard following you. I guess you’re an ambassador or something?”

Before the deer could open his mouth, Offense answered that question for him. “All you need to know is that he is someone of great interest.”

“Is that so?” asked Tranquility with intrigue. “So, can I at least know what your name is?”

       	“Maneler.” The deer nodded at her. “So, you said that this is your first time here. What do you mean by that?”

       	“It’s my night off.” She said. “I’ve just made enough bits to afford to come here.”

       	“Is that so? What sort of job do you have?”

       	“Waitress. I’ve moved to Canterlot not too long ago and have been working my flank off since. I’ve finally earned enough to just relax.”

       	“Ah, I see. Although I’m rather surprised that you see Buch as relaxing.”

       	She shrugged. “Hey, what can I say? This is my first time here. I guess I just needed an excuse other than getting orders from the tables. Still, I never heard Buch before so that’s rather exciting.”

“You never heard Buch before?”

“Like I said, busy. So where are you sitting?”

       	“Box twenty-four.”

       	“Mine’s forty-four. So, I think I might be right across from you.” All of a sudden, the lights dimmed for a moment before brightening back up again, whereas the ponies around them moved up the staircase. “I guess the show’s about to start. Still, thanks for talking with you.”

       	“You as well, ma’am.”

“If you want, I guess we can talk further after the concert.”

Maneler glanced over to Offense, who by the look on his face, didn’t seem to be against this. “That would be wonderful. Farewell Ms. Tranquility.” After she departed from them, he remarked to Offense, “She was nice.”

       	“I suppose so. Now to get to our seats.”

       	And so up the grand staircase, down a hallway with steps leading slightly downward, the two of them walked onto one of the many box seats of the grand theater. One with high ceilings that were capped with a dome, painted of Luna’s night. To Maneler, the music hall resembled that of one of the grand opera houses that he used to conduct in. The kind that had baroque style from the elegant curves of the box seats and the rows of balconies to the golden embroiled scarlet curtains.

       	However, what caught the deer’s eye was a particular box that was across from him that was closest to the stage. Unlike the others, this one had the banner of Equestria, an empty cushion, and two armed guards at attention. Maneler turned his head to Offense. “Do you think the Princesses is going to be here?”

       	The guard hummed. “Possible. Otherwise, why have security when a royal isn’t nearby?”

       	A few minutes later, the lights inside the theater dimmed and a spotlight was cast upon the royal box. Then through a curtain, everypony instantly stood up as Celestia herself walked out to take a seat to the applause of her subjects. She, in turn, waved before she sat down.

       	Once everpony settled down did the massive scarlet curtains parted open. The orchestra sat in circular rows in front of a small platform for the conductor, and a black and gold harpsichord right towards the audience. Maneler from his box could see that only the strings were on stage, and each held old fashion bows that curved outward instead of in that each had a pointy tip at the end. ‘That’s rather a curious choice,’ he thought as to his eyes the orchestra seemed lacking in winds, brass and percussion. However, he had to remind himself that they were playing Buch so he shouldn’t jump to conclusions.

       	Then out onto the stage, a lanky red stallion in a black suit walked onto the stage to the applause of the audience. He trots up front and center, raising a hoof up. “Mares and Gentlecolts,” he calls out, “Your attention please.” After the stomping of hooves quiet down, he said, “Before we begin, I would personally thank you all for coming here this evening. And you too, Your Majesty.” He bowed towards Celestia. “Tonight, we will be hearing pieces of Buch, starting off with his Harpsichord Concerto number one, Air in G, the Brandenburg Concerto Number three, and then finish off with a selection of fugues. With that said, tonight will be the first performance of our newest soloist for this orchestra who shall lead the way with his exceptional skills at the harpsichord. Mares and Gentlecolts, please welcome, Mr. Chub.”

       	 The audience applauded as a green Pegasus walked onto the stage in humility before the audience.
> 16: The Canterlot Sonata in F Major (2nd Movement)
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

As much as he heard about Shining’s parents from both his mom and dad, that despite being their adopted son for about a year, this was the first time Inverno have met them. Of course, he was shown photographs and the letters mentioned about them. However, this was the first time that he would be able to see and meet them face to face.

In truth, he didn’t exactly know what to expect. There was part of him that thought that Shining might have in some way grown up in a place similar to Cadence. That maybe he lived in a palace like a noble, with servants and surrounded by all things majestic. He thought that perhaps he was going to encounter parents who were warriors or chivalrous like knights. After all, his dad married a princess, then it stood to his reason that he might have lived in nobility too.

“There it is.” Shining pointed. “That’s where I used to live.”

Inverno looked over to where his dad was looking and blinked. “Where?”

“That one, right there.”

“What? Behind the blue house?”

“No, that’s it right there.”

Inverno's genuine surprise brought him to a sudden halt. The house before him was, admittingly, a nice looking one with being two floors tall having a black roof, royal blue walls with jade ivy crawling upward, open shutter windows, and a white door. However, what caught him off guard wasn’t so much as the look of this modest home as its size. It was… smaller than he envisioned it. Not only that, there were no guards at its door. No family crest that proudly displays to separate this home from the rest. Not even a flag to indicate this building’s importance.

At first, the colt thought that it must have been a joke or a mistake until Shining continued to move forward towards it.

“Something the matter?” Inverno looked up to the Professor who caught up with him.

“Huh? Oh no, Professor Key, it’s nothing just…”

“Yes?”

Inverno followed his dad towards the house. “Nothing. I just didn’t expect that where we’re going to would be so… humble.”

“Why? Were you expecting something else?”

“I don’t know… Maybe something similar to what we have in the Crystal Empire.”

“A palace?” The colt nodded.

Before Key Signature could make a response, Shining was already on the steps ringing the doorbell. He signaled for his son over to the door, “Come here. It’s alright.”

Glancing over to the older stallion, Inverno and the Professor walked up to the Prince. A few moments later the door opened up to a gray mare, whose eyes brightened up. “Shining!” She cried as she embraced him. “What are you doing out here?”

“Hey mom,” Shining hugged back, “is dad here?”

“Getting takeout, he should be here soon.” She pulled herself away. “This is unexpected, what are you doing outside of the Empire?”

“Well, there’s a lot of reasons.” He said. “But right now, I wanted to introduce you guys to someone.” He stepped backward beside the colt to wrap a hoof around him. “Mom, this is Inverno. Our son.”

Inverno’s cat-like eyes were focused on the mare’s reaction. For a split second, he felt hesitation as he saw her mouth dropped. There was a thought that perhaps he should probably give a quick bow before suddenly he found her hooves on his face.

“You’re Inverno, aren’t you?” She asked with a smile and he nodded. “So that’s what you look like! You’re so adorable. Shining, why haven’t you introduced me to this little guy sooner?”

“Ma’am?”

“Call me Velvet,” she said to the colt, “or better yet, grandma.” The next thing Inverno knew, he was dragged into the house with her asking questions if they have eaten or how things with Cadence and Flurry. When she let him go in the living room, she asked him if he wanted a cookie.

“Uh… Yes?” Inverno told her with uncertainty.

After she left the room, the Professor asked him, “Are you alright?”

“I… Think so…?” He turned to his dad. “I didn’t think she would be this… accepting of me.”

Shining tilted his head. “Of course she would. Mom has been pestering me to bring you here since Cadence and I wrote we adopted you. I would have done so sooner if we had the time.”

Inverno blinked. “She… wanted to see me? Dad, how come you didn’t tell me this before?”

“I keep forgetting.” He said embarrassingly.

Professor Key Signature glanced around at the living room at the couches, the cabinet that held badges and trophies, the wall of plaques, and family photographs of the Sparkle family. His eye fell upon the family portrait where his face twisted into intrigue. “Night Light?”

This caught Shining by surprise, “How do you know that name?”

The old stallion looked between him and the family photo. “I can’t believe I didn’t see this sooner. Night Light is your father, right?” The Prince nodded. “I used to have him as a student.”

“It must have been years ago.” Twilight Velvet said, catching the other’s attention as she had a small plate of cookies in her aura. “Do any of you want one?”

They all did, and Key Signature chuckled. “I guess this is a small world. I mean, Night is one of my earlier students, and Inverno my latest. Tell me, Madame, does your husband still play the piano?”

“He’s getting back into it, now that we have time.” Velvet replied. “Although I have to say that he’s completely out of practice.”

“Maybe I should come by,” he chuckled, “and scare him into remembering.”

Shining raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean by that?”

“I was a little stricter in those days.” The old stallion said after taking a bite of the cookie. “Perhaps a little harsh too, but back then he was a difficult student.”

“But you’re not strict.” Inverno pointed out.

“That’s because I’ve mellowed out a good deal.” He returned his attention to Velvet. “Is that piano still around?”

“It’s in the attic. We haven't moved it because partly it’s too heavy to move and partly because he doesn’t want anyone to hear him practice.”

The professor chuckled. “Still hasn’t changed.”

“However,” Velvet wrapped a foreleg around Inverno, “Shining said that you’re good at playing the piano and can sing too. Since he’s here, let’s have him play for us.”

“Can I?!” Inverno squeed but just as quickly he caught himself added with an embarrassed blush on his cheeks. “I mean if it’s alright with you? Grandma.”





From inside the dreamlike club, among the colored lights and the continuous beat, the two DJ’s were rousing up the dancers between bursts of cheers. In the doorway, Schubit’s eyes sharpened like blades of a sword at the earth pony by the keyboard.

However, before he could take a step forward, Defense took hold of Schubit’s foreleg. “Hold on, what are you doing?”

“Don’t you see? The one at the keyboard is Moztrot himself!”

The guard raised an eyebrow, “And how do you know that’s him?”

“I was told that the child, Inverno, chose our current forms by trying to match them to how closely we originally looked.” He pointed at one of the DJ’s. “Although his colors are different, he has his face like that of his portrait. I’m very certain that must be him.”

“But you can’t go off based on that.” Defense objected. “We can’t just snatch him without any solid proof that's him. He could be just a DJ for all we know.”

“Yo! You two at the door!” Vinyl Scratch called out over the microphone. “Don’t just stand there, come on in and join the party!” The dancers finally take notice of them and a few of them coaxed them to enter. Seeing that they don’t exactly have anything to lose, Schubit and Defense walked into this technicolor dream world towards the dancefloor.

“We got some new sick beats for ya!” The white unicorn in shades exclaimed. “And a melody that would make this night unforgettable. Are ya ready for Mo Trot ta drop the beat?” The dancers screamed out in acceptance as she pressed a button to thump out a quick tempo. The pony next to her bobbed his head to the beat, letting his hooves over the keyboard where a moment later, he began to play.



Over on the loudspeakers, a tense melody sang proudly, but at the same time, both Schubit and Defense noticed that the dance club was changing. All around them the darkroom of bright lights were shifting and twisting right before their eyes. A wind blew around them and the dancers with bright pink flower petals swirled around them, illuminating the darkness. The columns, mirrors, lit-up tiles, and the walls were morphing into a garden with ancient Pegasi ruins, and rivers of wine flowed.

The crowd became enthusiastic at this sudden change in scenery of the club, now they too find themselves in ancient robes gods of an ancient Pegasi vase, with the DJ’s to look down at this festival upon their pulsating cloud. Moztrot’s took on the role of God of music Apollo with his keyboard turned lyre and Vinyl as the Goddess of the hunting drum as Artemis. For Schubit and Defense, the scene looked like something out of a painting of a psychedelic myth just from the classical look and how everything seems to flow with each movement they made.

Schubit turned his head, a deadpan expression on his face towards the guard. “Maybe we should go talk to him.”

“Let's.” The composer agreed before they move into the dancefloor of the gods. Both stallions couldn’t go forward in a straight line as ponies masquerading as ancient gods and spirits blocked, open, twisted, turned, thrusted, retracted, flapped, flopped, and shook in their way. They passed by references of characters of myth and legend who fell under the hallucinogenic spell that was cast upon them. Forward and sideways to the illumines trees, over streams of sweet wine that ponies swallow by the gallon, around the ruins that pulsated to the metronome-like beat towards the musicians.

In this surreal race, Defense got to Moztrot first. “Hey you!”

He looked up from his lyre but continued to play. “Hey to you as well!”

“Are you Wolfgang Amadeus Moztrot?”

“I go by Mo Trot now. You enjoying the party? Because this is gonna go on all night!”

“Listen, you need to come with me.”

The Apollo wannabe tilted his head in confusion. “Why would I want to do that when we’re having so much fun. Aren’t we guys?” Cheers erupted up from the partiers turned flux-gods.

“Yeah,” Vinyl agreed, “we’re not causing any trouble. So why are you here?”

“I’m here on orders from the Crown.” Defense said, raising his voice over the loud music. “If you don’t come with me peacefully, then I have to arrest you.”

“For what? For partying too hard?” Both DJ’s laughed. “I’ve done nothing wrong.”

“Besides making some sick wubs,” Vinyl added.

Defense’s frown of annoyance grew increasingly impatient, and at this point, Schubit caught up with him. “Sir, this is a summons on behalf of the Royal Family.”

“But can’t they wait?” Moztrot waved a dismissive hoof. “I can’t leave when this lovely crowd wants me here. If anything, the only time I can leave is if they make me.”

From this, Schubit got an idea. He wasn’t certain if such a thing would work as there was already a spell at work at that very moment. However, as it was clear that the guard is getting nowhere with Moztrot, he decided that it was both a chance and a risk that could be proven fruitful. Plus, he had a guess how this sort of magic could be activated.

Looking over to the wild dancers, Schubit felt within him the strict authority like he had when he was a teacher, but at the same time imagined him with the confidence of a military general that was about to lead an army into glory. And like that, he remembered a tune that combined both emotion and imagination that exploded out like the burst of a cannon.



Suddenly, Moztrot’s spell was overridden as out of Schubit a new one took its place. Out of the first few bars of a commanding fanfare, the dancers became still at attention. Like militaristic automatons, they moved and organized into a square-like formation in synchronized movements. It would look as if they had trained all their lives in the Royal Guard when they marched forward.

“Hey!” Moztrot, although he tried in vain to play the lyre, realized that they were no longer in his control, “What’s going on! What are they doing?” He turned to the DJ next to him, but she was upright, stiff as a Solar Guard and just as stoic.

Schubit raised a hoof towards the false Apollo and the army came swarming in to dethrone one of the DJs, carrying him on his back towards the door they came in from. Despite Moztrot’s protests, flaying about as suddenly the dance club was turning against him, and that Defense was to a degree alarmed at what was happening, there was a part of him that was impressed.

However, he had to ask, “Schubit, what are you doing?”

“If he’s not willing to be an adult and does what he’s told,” Schubit said, “then I shall have him be removed like the child he is.”

The guard waved a hoof in front of Vinyl’s but getting no response. “But isn’t this mind control?”

“I see this as disciplining someone who is unruly… What?”

Defense looked at him unnerved. “Just… Don’t do this often without letting the rest of us know. Alright?”

They followed the improvised army carry Moztrot to the door to throw him onto the steps. Schubit ended the spell by its final chords to which the dance club reverted back to its original state. For the overthrown DJ, however, he moans pitifully from the hard landing.

“Owie…” he looked up to the frowning guard above him.

“Party’s over.” He said as he and Schubit lifted him up to be led up the steps.





Buch had played in front of an audience before for countless occasions. From appeasing the elders with his moral cantatas, to the concertos of royal courts, he was no stranger to performing in front of a large gathering, even when there’s someone of power listening. However, he knew that this time it was different. Among the applauding audience, there is a box near the stage was someone that he’d consider was as close to divinity as one could have the fortune to receive.

Princess Celestia.

The Guardian of the Sun.

On the one hoof, he was humbled for having someone like her be here. It was a milestone that before he’d thought would never see. Performing for someone that many would say is the embodiment of godhood to be there is an honor that goes beyond mortal description. At the same time, however, if one is performing before divinity, it does put a good amount of pressure upon the performer. Suddenly, the packed audience who was there didn’t matter, except for the approval of one who easily outranks them all.

He gave a modest bow, first to the audience, and then a deeper one towards Celestia. ‘Oh Goddess of Day,’ he silently prayed, ‘may this imperfect mortal have your approval of what talent I have.’

Then he turned towards the harpsichord that was waiting for him, as did the orchestra when the applause died down. The Pegasus tried to remain calm when he approached the stool, taking in deep breaths as he did so. “You’re going to be fine.” He heard the conductor whisper to him as he walked past.

Now sitting down, Buch gazed at the double keyboard for a moment. Before the conductor could raise his baton, he raised a hoof as he pressed the key of E, letting its sound echo in the confused silence before nodding. With a shrug from the conductor, he raided himself and the strings, and Buch raised his hooves to touch the instrument.

The last thought he had before diving into the opening movement was: ‘Let there be light.’



In unison, he and the orchestra established the opening theme, and as they did so, the darken theater combusted with light, like a firework busted that left behind galaxies. The audience gasped loudly at this sudden and unexpected big bang that left suspended nebulas of alien colors and swirling billions of stars. Even the orchestra, including the conductor, was caught completely off guard by this. So much so, that at this explosion they stopped playing, but the music still boomed around the theater with Buch taking the lead of this spectacular light show.

In fact, Buch himself paid no attention to the mini-universe that was created but was Tartarus bent in his focus upon the harpsichord. Notes flew from the keyboard at complex speed with notes ticking and thinking like a mechanical computer. It was as if he were guiding every source of light at his hooftips like a god commanding the universe or Luna that painted her night. Every bar of every note was played with precision and refined timing like the gears of a clock.

Up in the box seats, Maneler and Offense’s jaw hung open as they witnessed the pulsating universe that hung all around them.

“By the gods!” The Deer exclaimed in an exasperated whisper. “It’s… It’s him! Honest to Celestia him! Buch is right here!”

“We have to bring him in.” Offense whispered back, but before he could get up from his seat, a cloven hoof forced him back down. “What do you think you’re doing?!”

“I could ask you the same thing.” Maneler questioned him. “We can’t just rush down onto the stage and get him. Not in front of Celestia or all of these ponies! Especially not when the Master himself is playing.”

“But it’s one of the ponies we’re looking for. He has to come with us.”

Maneler glanced over at the cosmos that move in time to the music. Where clusters of stars and planets form out of the dust and circled about their heads like a complex mobile in motion much like the virtuosic movements of Buch’s hooves on the keyboard. He also noticed the audience from the mare they’ve met in the grand foyer to Princess Celestia looked at the short creation of the universe with awe in wonder.

“Not yet.” He said. “Not until the Master is finished. Besides, he’s not harming anyone, but gifting us with this.”

Offense grumbled. “Okay, fine. But once he walks off stage, he’s coming with us.” The guard sat there, forelegs folded as he witnessed the creation of solar systems, moons, and planets being melted and compressed by gravity. Watching the zooming of comets, the bumping of asteroids, and the ballet dance of black holes. He sat there for a minute to watch the ticking of the mini-universe, marveling how this single pony who isn’t looking up at what he’s making is able to do all of this without falling apart. After a while, Offense asked, “How do you ponies do it?”

Maneler raised an eyebrow. “Whatever do you mean?” He whispered.

“How can you guys do any of… this?” He waved a hoof out to the stars. “Just come up with spells on a scale like what he’s doing? Reshape reality almost like Discord with nothing but music?”

“I wish I’d known.” The Deer replied. “I guess it's part from what we want to focus to think and feel, part of the tune we have in mind, and the rest being the imagination we have to make something like this come alive. What I and probably Schubit have done, was projected from our own imagination and into the real world. But to see Buch’s mind… I am humbled.”

The conversation died as Buch’s light show continued on into the billions of years at a quick tempo right before everyone’s eyes. On the stage, the orchestra looked at one another in confusion as although they can clearly hear strings, not one of them was playing. In fact, the only source of this surprise orchestra came from the pony who was playing at the harpsichord. Even the conductor was at a loss of what to do that he stood there awkwardly, wondering if he should get off the stage or start conducting a force that he has no control over.

Contrasted to Buch that within his mind while he was letting his imagination fly, he was thinking of only one thing. ‘For the love of Celestia, don’t miss a note!’

Several minutes later after Buch serenaded the heavens towards a dramatic conclusion with its final chords that he finally noticed the fading lights overhead. Both his music and imagination faded back into darkness, as well as seeing the reaction of both his audience and the orchestra. From the rows of ponies, including Celestia, there was thunderous applause. But from the orchestra, there was confusion, if not hesitation to be in the same room as him.

But from the conductor, it was a different story when he walked up to him. “Mr. Chub, please leave.”

“What?”

“I invited you to share in the spotlight, not steal the show.” He pointed off stage. “Please, go to your dressing room. I’ll deal with you later.”

Buch’s eyes widened. “Are you fir-”

“Now!” He hissed through his teeth. Wincing, Buch obeyed to make an awkward trot off stage.

Up in the box seats, Offense pulled Maneler out of his seat to cease their chance.

Thanks to Offense, getting past security wasn’t much of an issue of entering backstage. Down a spiral staircase to a hallway that was right beneath the stage itself into a hallway of pale blue with rows of white doors. Fortunately for them, it didn’t take long to locate which one Buch was behind on the account of the banging from one particular door.

“Sir?” Offense called out. “Is everything alright?”

The banging stopped before it opened up enough for Buch’s head to stick up. “This isn’t a good time.”

Just when he was about to close it again, the guard stuck his hoof in. “Sir, we need to have you come with us.”

“Why? I’ve already ruined my chance of getting out of poverty and you’re kicking me out too?”

Maneler was taken aback at this statement. “Ruined? Mr. Buch that was amazing!”

“I don’t have time for your…” the green Pegasus trailed off at what he heard. So much so, he forced the door wide open with a surprised look on his face. “How do you know my name?”
> 17: The Canterlot Sonata in F Major (3nd Movement)
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------



Night Light walked through the front door, and in his aura, a still hot box of Neighponies take out levitated nearby. “Velvet, I got the food.” No answer. “Hon?” he called out, but no reply came except for the sound of the piano that was coming from upstairs. Setting dinner aside, he followed the music upward towards the attic. His ears picked a voice that he never heard of before. One that clearly wasn’t his wife, but still curious nonetheless.

At first, it sounded like a filly singing. But as he got closer towards the open ladder, the tone of that voice wasn’t distinctively female, nor a child’s or even a falsetto. While singing undoubtedly high, each note it sang was clear and distinctive, which moved through its operatic melody with ease like a Mockingbird.

Into the dusty attic did he find his wife, but she wasn’t alone. Seeing who it was, his feelings were instantly conflicted. On one hoof, there was joy as his son was there, somepony who he hadn’t seen in a long time since the move to the Crystal Empire. On the other, there was confusion at the colt who not only was playing the piano but was the one singing. And then there was terror, his old piano teacher had returned.

“Looks like dinner’s here.” Velvet said and the music stopped playing. The three other ponies craned their heads back towards Night.

“Hey, dad!” Shining trotted up to hug him.

“Shining!” He hugged back. “I didn’t know you were coming! How’ve you been? Did you have any dinner?”

“Dad, it’s fine.” His son said, breaking the embrace. “We’re just here to say hello since we’re in town for tonight.”

“But have you eaten?”

“We will later, for now, I just wanna introduce you to someone.”

Night craned his neck to the side. “If you mean Professor Key Signature, I’m afraid we’ve already met.”

“No.” Shining walked back towards the piano, putting a hoof around the colt. “Dad, I’d like for you to meet our son, Inverno.”

The colt nodded to him.

“Huh.” Night Light blinked. “So that’s what you look like. And was that you singing a moment ago?”

“Yes. A song from Schubit.”

The blue unicorn gave a low whistle. “Wow, you got some pipes on ya to be singing such an old song like that.”

Inverno tilted his head. “What are you talking about, Schubit wrote it yester-”

Professor Signature coughed loudly. “Well, how’s my old student?”

Night flinched. “I’ve been… busy.”

“So I’ve noticed. Your wife tells me that you’re only now returning to the piano and yet finding it covered in dust. Are you certain that you’ve been practicing as often as I told you that you should?” His old student didn’t answer as he looked a little too terrified to answer. The Professor smiled and then laughed. “Oh, I’m only joking. It’s good to see you!”

“Who are you and what have you done to my old piano teacher?”

There was laughter from that comment from everyone before they moved from the dusty attic back downstairs. From there, Shining caught his parents upon the events since they’ve last seen each other as they did so likewise as they dug into their dinner. Night Light told him of picking up the piano again to have a hobby outside of scheduling for the observatory. Velvet gave out story after story of their day trips to seek thrills and excitement from bungy-jumping to visiting the latest thrill-ride amusement park.

Before Shining and the Professor could depart, Night asked his son to speak to him in private before they leave. Curious, Shining followed his dad upstairs to what used to be his old room that now has become a study. “Something wrong Dad?” the prince asked after he closed the door.

“I’m not sure yet.” He replied. “So how old is the kid again?”

“Fourteen. Why?”

His father raised an eyebrow. “Shining, I know that you write to us through letters now – and given the distance, it’s a necessity. But Shiny, is there something about Inverno you’re not telling us?”

Shining blinked. “What are you talking about?”

“If I remember right, all you said about the little guy is that he used to be Sombra’s son, that he’s currently fourteen, he was beaten up once and that he has a talent in music. Am I right so far?” His son nodded. “So, with all of that said, I can’t help but sense that something might be... off about him. I mean, the kid should be reaching puberty by now. But when I walked in, his voice sounds like that it hasn’t… ya know… dropped. Now I know that it’s no business of mine, but is Inverno a late developer or is there something wrong?”

“Oh…” Shining rubbed the back of his neck. “Uh yeah… about that…”

“You are hiding something.” His father frowned. “Is there something wrong with him?”

“It’s… It’s hard to explain. Especially what Sombra did to him.”

Now that frown turned into concern. “Why? What happened?”

After a sigh escaped his son’s muzzle, he said. “Dad…” He looked right at his eye. “There’s no way I can sugar-coat this, but what I’m about to say, I don't want it to leave this room.”

“Why?”

Taking in a deep breath he said, “Sombra had him castrated.”

A very uncomfortable silence flooded the room. His father slack-jawed in horror. “He… what?”

“I know…” Shining nodded. “Turns out, the reason why was because he didn’t want him to be aggressive with his magic, that he wasn’t the only child he had, and that in his… sick, twisted mind, doing so would preserve that voice of his.”

“Oh my Celestia…” Night fell onto his haunches. “Does Cadence know?”

“Yeah, we had him look by a doctor as soon as we figured that something was up. Still… there was a reason why we left that detail out of our letters. I mean… how do you bring something like that up? To tell you that he’s not going to grow up like a normal colt and the possibility of him having foals of his own are nonexistent. I mean… how exactly are you going to have… The Talk, if he doesn’t have those parts?”

“Okay, I can see why but…” Night shook his head. “That’s horrible. And his father had this done to him…? Does Inverno know?”

“Um…” Shining pawed at the ground. “Kinda, but I don’t think he fully knows what was done to him. But the reason why I left that out because it’s still hard to talk about. Truth is, I’m not entirely sure what Cade and I should do. And not just talking about it with him, but of the things that we’re not sure how to handle.”

“Like what?”

“Like what if he develops a love interest? Or how exactly will his body develop without testosterone? Do we import chemical supplements to him? Should we even call him he if he doesn’t have all the male parts? I could go on, but there's so much to think about. I mean, they never cover any of this stuff in Sex Ed.”

“Yeah…” Night nodded. “I see. Once you know that fact, you’re basically navigating through a minefield full of gray areas. To be honest Shining… I’m no expert on the subject when it comes to that sort of stuff. However, what I can say that, speaking as a father, any kid that you claim as your own is your responsibility to have them grow up as a good-hearted individual. You can’t control how they’ll identify themselves as, nor what opinions they’ll have. But if I were in your horseshoes, Shining, I’d install in him some timeless truths and values to live by, as I have with your kids. Do everything you can to let him grow into the best kind of pony he can be, and not by how you want ‘em to be. Your job as a parent is to be a guide, but only he can decide where to go from here.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Shining said as he gave his father a hug. “I’ll do what I can. I just hope I don’t fail him or Flurry.”

“For that, let me tell you something that your grandfather told me. ‘A parent who has not prepared their children for their own death has failed. The only way to prevent that is to teach them the skills they will need when the time comes when you are not around anymore.’ I have faith in you that you will become the father that Inverno and little Flurry needs. Teach them what this world has to offer them, and what they can do in it. As well as to navigate the dangers too.” Night smiled. “You can do this.”

After Shining thanked his dad and they said their goodbyes, he walked out of the house where his son and the professor were waiting to show what Canterlot has to offer.





“…. And then before I knew it, I had gone from being in poverty to being invited to perform for these ponies,” Buch said with Maneler and Offense listening to his story. Since the three of them didn’t see any point in staying at the opera house, it was best for them to head towards the train station to let the other guards know that he was found. “Honestly, I have no idea what happened back there. I was so focused on not trying to look over a single note that I didn’t notice any of the lights until the end.”

“But you should have looked up,” Maneler said to him. “To witness that light show of the beginnings of the universe was stunning.”

“What about Her Holiness? Was she impressed with what I did?”

The guard raised an eyebrow. “Her Holiness?”

“You know, Princess Celestia. Bringer of the Dawn and all of that.”

“Oh!” Offense quickly understood. “From what I could see, the Princess looked quite awestruck like everyone else in that theater.”

A relieved sigh escaped Buch’s lips. “Good… Good…”

Walking underneath a lit street lamp, Maneler raised an eyebrow. “Why are you concerned about how Celestia reacted? The applause you received was well deserved.”

The Pegasus shook his head dismissively. “I care not for fame, Mr. Maneler. Even in the old days, I took it with gratitude and humility. But all I’ve done in the name of music was meant for the divine. All that striving for perfection is to glorify not just Celestia, but those that control forces beyond our understanding. Tonight is no exception. I finally got my wish to play before her, and she was pleased.” He turned to Maneler. “But what about you? What is your experience like in this new world so far?”

Maneler’s muzzle scrunched up. “If I’m being honest, it’s been complicated. Waking up in a new place in a new body is hard enough, but to know that everyone you once knew and loved is gone… Well… I needed some time to grieve.”

Buch nodded empathically. “Yes… That is the hardest thing to confront. Now that my second wife and children are no more.”

“However, I can’t say that it has been all miserable. After all, I did meet a friend who has caused this mess and trying to resolve it. A pale colt by the name of Inverno, along with his father is making the effort of trying to seek us lost souls. A promising prodigy that has a talent for performing and compassion. Besides, I think that he would like to meet you too.”

“Fascinating…” the Pegasus hummed in thought.

Soon they reached the train station and were escorted to the Crystalized Train where there were a few of the staff remaining on board. When they got near it, they noticed that there was an argument going on. Curious, the three of them traced it to the last car where Schubit was arguing with a stallion that none of them have seen before.

“What is the meaning of this?” Maneler asked. “And who is this?”

“Ah, finally!” Schubit was exasperated. “Mr. Maneler, could you talk some sense into this stallion-child that he should come with us instead of partying up here in Canterlot?”

“I don’t see why I should go.” The other stallion in a curious costume folded his forelegs in protest. “I have a new job and as far as I can see, I’m being foalnapped into… whatever this is, to up and abandon what I’ve been trying to make for myself.”

“Uh… who are you?” Offense raised a hoof.

“That’s Moztrot.” They turned towards the voice of Defense who walked into the car. He pointed at the green Pegasus, “Let me guess, you found another one?”

“Yep.” Offense nodded. “That’s Buch. Where did you find Moztrot?”

“Performing with a DJ at a dance club, you?”

“Kicked out of an Opera House for upstaging an orchestra.”

Defense facehoofed. “You know, that one was so obvious that I’m shocked that even I didn’t think of it.”

Maneler looked between the two guards. “You two know each other?”

“We’re brothers,” Offense said, “but anyway, back on topic. So what was this argument about?”

“I’ll tell you what this is about!” Moztrot interjected, pointing an accusing hoof at Schubit. “I was at my job of entertaining some ponies when Killjoy here decided to foalnap me. Saying something about it’s for the crown or some nonsense like that. And now I’m being told that I have to come with him to Celestia-knows-where away from Canterlot.”

“And I’ve been trying to tell him that he must come with us as ordered by Prince Shining Armor.” The unicorn stomped his hoof. “I’ve been trying to get him to see that this isn’t a foalnapping and that he should really come with us.”

“Somehow I doubt that. This has got to be illegal.”

“No, it isn’t!”

“Says you!”

A loud stomp was heard like a crack of thunder as everypony turned to its source. Buch’s wings spread wide. “Frankly both of you are acting like foals.” He said sternly. “If neither of you could have the decency of acting like adults by actually listening to the other, then don’t bother to talk at all!”

Moztrot raised an eyebrow. “And why should I listen to you?”

“Because he’s Buch,” Maneler said. “As in, Johann Sebastian Buch.”

The earth pony scoffed. “First of all, Buch has been dead for years. Second, what proof do you have? What credible source do you have to back up such an exaggerated claim?”

As if an answer from the universe, there was a knock on the crystallized walls. Everypony quickly located the source of this and found, much to their surprise, that it was Celestia who was knocking. Through the see-through walls, they can also see that she was there with her guards who each held a spear.

Immediately, Offense and Defense got up towards the nearest door to answer.

“Hello.” Celestia waved at them. “Is Mr. Buch on this train? I would like to speak with him.”

Offense was taken aback. “How did you-”

“Please bring him out. I wish to speak to him.”

Buch was compelled towards the door and out onto the station. He pauses for a brief moment before he exited, gulping. There were so many questions that no doubt the others were having at that very moment, but for Buch, there was a hesitation as it hit him that he was about to meet Celestia in the flesh. Taking in a deep breath he steps out with the timidly of a rabbit where his hooves shook when they touched the ground.

“Mr. Buch-” was as far Celestia got out before the green Pegasus kowtow before her. “No, don’t bow.” She lit up her horn to set him on his hooves. “You of all ponies should never bow to me. If anything, I should be the one doing just that.” The alicorn lowered her elongated neck down with reverence while Buch’s mouth dropped at what was happening.

“You’re Hol-” A hoof silenced him.

“I know you have questions. As everyone on board would have no doubt. Firstly, yes, I have a pretty good idea of who you are. Princess Cadence, my niece had informed me that their son had used a forbidden spell to bring you and several others to life. Plus, I’ve been informed by both her and her husband of the unique sort of magic you possess – I mean, once you put on that show, it was a dead giveaway to your identity.”

“Oh… And how did you know I was here?”

“Well Cadence did say that her husband and their child are taking the train to find all of you, so when I found out that you were not at the opera house, I realized you most likely would have been picked up.” She smiled. “And I must say, to have the opportunity to meet you is a tremendous honor.”

Buch slouched down on his hindquarters. “But… that is what I don’t understand. You are honored to meet me? A demigod that bows before an insignificant musician?”

“Because I have heard about your work, although, many years too late.” Her ears folded her flat to the back of her head. “I’m rather ashamed that like the majority of ponies, none of us heard of the majesty, the thought-provoking, and the brilliance of your pieces for a hundred years after your passing. Of someone who should have been given more credit for shaping music as we know it. You’ve become a muse to so many that you are considered as the father of music.”

“But…” Buch shook his head. “Surely there would have been plenty of others that would have contributed more than what I offer.”

“Tell me,” the Sun Princess said as she got up to put a wing around him, “as a composer, what was the goal of writing what you wrote?”

“Well…” The stallion took a moment to think of a response. “The aim and final end of all music should be none other than the glory of the divinite, and refreshment of the soul.”

Celestia nodded. “And there is your greatest secret – your humility. Your genius came about, not because of wanting fame but to selflessly compose for something bigger than yourself. Your melodies have touched the hearts of countless listeners and intrigued the minds of scholars. And for me, to help me cope with my own demons. So, in a way, I want to take this opportunity to personally say thank you.”

For a moment, Buch had no idea what to say to receive such a compliment except to say: “Thank you.”

“Tell me, is Shining and Inverno on that train by any chance.”

“I... don't think so?” The stallion inquired, tilting his head in confusion for a moment.

“Who is on that train then?”

“Apart from a few guards, there are three others. A deer named Maneler, a unicorn called Schubit, and a noisy fellow who they call Moztrot.”

Celestia’s expression dropped. “Oh…” In her eye, Buch saw in her something that he thought would never see, but at the same time, brought about a curiosity that he dares not ask. Those of regret.

She called out for the guards on board where the brothers' Offense and Defense were the first to respond. She asked where Shining Armor had gone to and they told her that the Prince decided to give everyone the night off to rest from the search to unwind.

“I see.” Celestia nodded. “Would you please go find Shining to inform him that I’ll be entertaining Buch, Moztrot, Schubit, and Maneler, that I’ll return them in the morning?” The brothers obeyed right away. One by one, the composers got off the train until Moztrot was the last to walk onto the platform who stared at the ground. “Hello, Moztrot.”

“Your Highness…” He said with a growl under his breath.

“It’s good to see you again.”

No reply, much to the raised eyebrows of the other stallions.
> 18: Attention in A Minor
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Although it was past nine in the morning and there were few ponies betting on the gambling floor, Lully felt that he was too early to show up for work. The Zebra in uniform at the roulette table had propped his forelegs up, rubbing his heavy eyes. Normally, he didn’t mind the mornings himself, especially when it was one of those clear and warm kinds that makes everything fresh as soon as you wake up. But waking up and going to work with a headache with not enough sleep wasn’t much help for him.

His ears perked up when he heard somepony clearing its throat. Raising his head, he saw his supervisor there with a frown. “So, how’s the party last night?”

“Well, good morning to you too, mademoiselle.” He said rubbing his eyes. “And no, I didn’t go to that club next door if that’s what you’re implying.”

“Then how come you look like you’re about ready to go to La La Land?”

The Zebra waved a hoof at what few gamblers there were. “I believe you’d be pleased to hear that I was forced to work later than intended. Apparently, these ponies are attracted to me.”

“In what way?”

“Oh, the usual reasons.” He said to her, yawning. “My sense of humor, exotic looks, flowerily complements, spontaneous magic, easy to talk to, being an open invitation to-”

“What was that last part?” His supervisor interrupted, blinking.

“Easy to talk to?”

“No, the one before that.”

Lully thought for a moment. “The spontaneous magic?”

“Yeah, that part. What are you talking about?”

“Haven’t you heard?” Lully asked as he stretched his forelegs. “Not too long ago, a bust of magic overcame me, and I was managed to produce quite a show for those who witnessed it.”

Her expression didn’t change beyond being unconvinced. “Uh-huh.”

“It’s true! An entire club witnessed it and saw that I cast a spell that livens thing ups.”

“Are you sure you didn’t take or ingest anything to make you think you cast magic?” The supervisor deadpans. “Last time I’ve checked, you don’t have a horn.”

“But you never see what I could do, mademoiselle. Perhaps you should stick around to see what may happen.”

“Not gonna happen.” She looked at her clipboard. “As of now, I still got to make sure that the other blackjack dealers are fully stocked and ready to go. Meanwhile, I suggest that you at least take a moment and get yourself some coffee. And judging by your face, you’re gonna need it.”

He gave a salute. “Oui mon Capitaine.” An eye roll from his supervisor later, the Zebra left his table and walked past the games and gamblers towards a door that said for employees only. As soon as he pushed through that door, he entered a place that was the stark contrast of the opulent decorations of the casino. White plain walls that had a few chairs, a small table, watercooler, and a cabinet that had a coffee pot with a newspaper next to it. All illuminated by stale fluorescent lights.

‘Oh, how little times have changed.’ He thought as hooves mechanically marched towards the pot of coffee. ‘Even centuries after the Pranch monocracy has fallen, the servants still have to endure a spartan life for the sake of service.’ The Zebra poured himself a cup of the dark, cheap liquid into a paper cup before stirring in the packets of sugar and cream. ‘Is this how I’m expected to spend the rest of my days? My legacy to be given a second chance of life? I was the court composer to the King of Prance, a blazing comet to trail blaze. I wrote ballets for the king when he danced at the utmost grandeur.’

Lully sighed. “Oh, how the mighty have fallen…” he muttered before downing his cup down his throat. When he put his cup down, he noticed the newspaper and the picture that was on it. What caught his eye wasn’t so much of the headline about Prince Shining Armor going on tour. Rather, it was the black and white image that was on it. “Is that…” He picked up the newspaper, examining the face that was on it. “That face… He looks just like…”

Louis. 

That name echoed in his head. The more he stared at that face, the more of his memories of the Prench King returned to him. This stallion, this prince, had the same face from the smile to the gleam in his eye – it was the same. Although he couldn’t explain how, seeing that face again, he felt his heart skip.

Even when he returned to his table, he seemed to forget about his moment of gloom that brought a smile to his face. Hope and joy filled his heart and mind, and to his eyes, the mock Versailles seemed real enough to make it appear that the Court of Love has been restored to its glory. And so, he began to daydream.



His imagination painted with bold colors. Of cool Saddle Arabian drum beats with the sweet flowing stream string of a guitar, almost like the setting of an exotic garden of palms, and blooming orange trees. And then, that alabaster face shines forth like the crescent moon. Then, he speaks. A voice of a violin that speaking as the prince in the language of poetry. A tongue that perfectly forms the sound that seduces the soul to gladly surrender to love itself. One of youth but with the sophistication of experience that softens even the hardest of hearts and set afire those that are yielding to its hypnotic song.

Yet, with a waking eye, Lully bears witness to his daydream taking effect in the reality around him. The gambling floor, of what few ponies that were nearby, gravitated towards him. He could swear that in the eyes of those that swarm around him like bees to a flower, that they reflected the affectation that was pulsating in his blood.

“Um… good morning.” Lully straightens up but still let the internal melody play on. “Care to take your chances with me?”

“What a dreamy accent.” A mare sighed lovingly.

The Zebra blinked. “Why, thank you, Madame.”

“Do you come here often?” A random stallion questioned.

“I work here.”

“Nice uniform you got on.” Another mare complemented.

All around him, ponies gave him praises and complements the longer his inner song played on. If anything, Lully noticed that not one of them had sat down to play a round of roulette and instead seemed to spend more time flirting with him at every angle. Complete strangers circling around him like predators, ready to pounce.

“So…” Lully said, “Are any of you going to gamble or…?”

Immediately, a mare’s hoof threw down a room key. “A wild ride in my room on black.”

Another hoof, this time a stallion who placed down his key. “A good licking of that carrot on red.”

The Zebra was taken aback. “Excuse-toi”

“All of my bits and gets to plow my fields on red even!” A mare cried out.

“My child’s college fund and I’ll be on the bottom on black odd!”

“I get to have his foal on black seven!”

“An orgy on red twelve!”

As the crowd placed their bets, shouting ever increasingly desperate bids to get a piece at Lully, the Zebra wisely decided that this would be the time to press that button underneath the table to summon security. However, as quick as the response was for the blue-uniformed security guards to come to his rescue, he just as quickly regretted it as soon as they too started flirting with him.

“Looks like I’m gonna have to place you under arrest,” a mare security guard said as she levitated a pair of hoofcuffs, “because you’re so handsome that it’s criminal.”

Fortunately for Lully, just when it looked like he was running out of options for help – as well as an escape – the music inside of him came to an end, snapping everypony out of the spell.

“Uh…” One of the mares that were closest to him looked around embarrassingly, “What just happened?”

“Did we just…” a stallion next to her began but he too trailed off when he realized what he and the rest of the crowd were doing. Turning his attention to Lully, he said, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know what came over me.”

The rest of the crowd agreed and awkwardly separated away from the table.

Even Lully, after being left alone, was still comprehending what just happened. “Huh… That was… new…” He wondered if something like this would happen every time he thought about the Prince in the newspaper. Perhaps, he thought, that as soon as the next payday comes through to earn enough, he ought to go searching for him.





There was something about rain that brings one into a meditative state. Despite having very little to do in his tiny little shack of a cabin, Debussy sat there to gaze at the sea as storm clouds occasionally rumble and mummer over the waves on the rocks and the tapping on the roof. Even with having the unfortunate luck of being his day off from going out to sea, there wasn’t much to do in his current condition except to stare out the window as if it were a painting.

He was already awake since the crack of dawn as the rains refused to let him sleep any further. Breakfast could always wait as, to his mind, it was still too early to be concerned about hunger. Rather, it was the view that brought a perspective of his thoughts that questioned himself.

‘What did happen the other day?’ He thought as he witnessed a wave become sea-spray upon the black rocks. ‘How did I cause a blizzard to appear and bring- no! Stop it right now! Get it through your head, it’s not her! It wasn’t your daughter! There’s no possible way that she can be alive after for so long.

‘Only… It is something you wanted. To see Chou-Chou again. At least for one last time. It’s not right for a father to outlive his own child. But here you are, going from composer and toast of Paris to a stingy sailor in a new body by the sea. So… what is a stallion to do now? Do I really just salvage garbage at the bottom of the sea for the remainder of my days? After all the things I’ve published? But… be reasonable, you have to be pragmatic when you’re not in Prance and not with…’

He paused to listen to the thunder that echoed across the gray sky. Continue to watch the white waves ebb and flow twist and crash upon the rocks like an ancient dance.

‘But is this really what I want? To give up being an artist altogether? I could be composing some ditty for the piano, my impressions of this gray sea on paper. It’s not right to be cooped up inside a shack on Horseshoe Bay to do nothing but feel sorry for myself. I mean, I’ve been given a second chance to live again, not to mention that I have time now to create.’

He felt his stomach growl, making him aware of the empty feeling inside of him. As much as he wanted to ignore it, he knew that beast would return to demand to be feed. So getting up and putting on what clothing he had: a black rubber raincoat, he walked out of the shack and headed towards the microscopic town towards the pub – praying that it might be open.

Indeed, it was, but as soon as he entered through that every sailor was staring at him with cautious eyes. It almost as if he suddenly became an outlaw to be feared, even when he knows there’s no reason to be. At the same time, given the blizzard incident, he knew that wasn’t exactly true.

“I was beginning to wonder when you were going to show up.”

Debussy turned to the voice and blinked. “Captain? I thought you and the crew would be gone by now.”

“Unfortunately, the weather had other ideas.” He said, pointing at a rain tapping window with a wing. “I don’t think it would be a good idea to set sail if the winds make the waves nasty at any time.” He then gestured over to an empty seat at the bar that was next to him. Debussy accepted the invitation. After sitting down to place an order for a plate of eggs and haybacon, the Captain started up a conversation. “So… Are you doing well this morning?”

“As well as one can be in this type of weather.”

The older Pegasus nodded. “Aye, it’s pretty understandable with outside being so gloomy and all. But I’m sure it’ll pass.” After downing whatever it was in his mug, he asked, “By-the-way, how did you do it?”

“Captain?”

“I mean, how did you make a blizzard appear so suddenly and go just as quickly? Granted with you bein’ a unicorn it’s possible with all those fancy illusion spells. Only, that one certainly felt very real, we all felt the cold. Not only that, but to make that snow filly appear – so how was it done?”

Debussy shrugged. “I don’t know any more than you do. I guess I was missing my daughter so badly that… it just happened.” Looking over his shoulder, he added. “Still, it doesn’t explain why everypony here looks to me as if I have a bomb.”

“To be fair, I have an idea why. After that instant blizzard, word got out about it and now some of us aren’t sure what else could happen around you. Especially if you sit down at that piano again.”

“In what way?”

“Well… who knows. If you sat down and play again, we just don’t know what else you might conjure up. Maybe bring in a sandstorm or a hurricane. Or maybe you’ll bring a siren into the pub – we just don’t know really. I mean, if you could do what you did not too long ago, what else can you do?”

“Good point…” Debussy muttered. “Still, I have quite a lot on my mind as of late.”

“Like your daughter for instance?” He nodded. “Ah, I see… Anything else?”

The unicorn looked at him in the eye and asked, “Do you think I should go back to Paris?”

He shrugged. “How would I know. Why? What’s in Paris?”

“I mean, should I go back to what I used to do? Composing I mean. Although part of me wonders what the point of would be doing so if I have no family there. But another is pondering that I could go back to what I used to do – play on the piano, write music to be published. I can’t say if my work would still be welcomed, but should I consider that chance?”

“Can’t say.” The Captain replied. “I mean, I’m only here because it’s where I found my calling. Not only am I content with living by the sea but working in it too. A stallion has to have something he’s passionate about, you know. There’s no point in doing something that would drag you into the abyss if you had an opportunity to swim to the surface.”

Debussy raised an eyebrow. “I’m not exactly sure what you mean by that metaphor.”

“Simply put, you gotta follow your own happiness and see where it goes. Mine ends up here. But the trick is to persevere.”

“Even so,” he pointed out as a plate of his breakfast was sat down in front of him, “it’s rather hard to do when there’s no hope to move beyond.”

The old Pegasus frowned. In a serious tone, he said. “No, never do that.”

“Do what?”

“You must never give in to despair, allow yourself to slip down that road and you surrender to your lowest instincts. Even in the darkest of times, hope is something that you give yourself, that is the meaning of inner strength.”

Debussy went quiet from these words, looking between him and his breakfast. “When did you become a philosopher?”

“Hey, I may not have gone to school, but at my age, I know a few things. What I’m saying is that if you want to continue on with being on the crew, fine. Or if you want to quit and go back to Prance to rebuild what you once were, fine. But before you do so, I suggest you ask yourself what is it that you want and why.”

The unicorn sighed as he picked up a fork and took a couple of bites of his eggs. “You’re right, Captain. I know deep down that you’re right. But when one reduced to nothing, it’s rather hard to start up again – or knowing how. You see, when I used to write music, I have broken the rules to make what I wrote as beautiful as possible. The only problem is, ponies don’t very much like things that are beautiful – they are so far from their nasty little minds.”

“I disagree.” The Pegasus captain said after he downed the last of his drink. “Beauty is always appreciated no matter where in the world you are or what it is. It’s why some ponies look back to old things like books and song or such stuff – because true beauty never fades, but ponies need to be reminded of it once in a while.”

Debussy turned to his breakfast, but the words that the older Pegasus said was left to be marinated in his mind. While scarfing down the eggs and haybacon, he reflected on what made him happy, on what gave him meaning. In his life as a composer, as much as he loves the tranquility of nature – especially the sea – or spending time with his daughter, it was music that gave color to it all. The piano alone brought about so many things. Of dreams, of lovers, of family and friends, that were hidden in the chords. This what brought him meaning when he was alive all those years ago, so couldn’t he do it again here?

“Alright.” He said after swallowing the last bite. “I want to test something.”

“Test what?”

“I’m going to play the piano again. If I still have my touch, I’ll make preparations to leave Horseshoe Bay back to Paris. If not, then my calling is here.”

The captain raised an eyebrow. “Okay… And if you do decide to go back to Prance?”

“Admittingly, I would need to earn enough to make the trip home. But it still stands.” He got up from his seat and headed towards the piano. No sooner had he made his march towards fate, did the ponies in the pub instantly took cover. Debussy tries to take no notice of this but did roll his eyes as he wasn’t planning to do any harm whatsoever. Sitting down at the bench and opening the lid of the keys, he closed his eyes to daydream.

The pub became silent as if everyone was holding their breath to see what was about to happen. All eyes were on the unicorn that for a long moment, he sat before the instrument like a monk in meditation. For several minutes, he didn’t do anything until he raised his hooves up to the keys. But even then, his hooves hesitated. Opening his eyes, an image began to paint in his head – of a warm Spring day.



With gentle strokes of the lower keys, a glow at his eye level appeared and expanded open as wide as a mirror, like a portal. To Debussy’s amazement, he saw bright Paris as he knew it. From the warm sky to the green rows of trees by the river where couples took their stroll whispering sweet nothings to one another as they went by. As he turned his head, the portal moved along with him, showing Paris as he remembers it in every direction. He tried to reach out to the portal, but even as he got up and move, that tunnel vision was always out of reach.

“What’s happening?” The Captain asked.

“I think…” Debussy said as he paused to look down at the cobblestone street that had a line of trees swaying in the breeze. “I think I’m seeing my past. My memory of Paris.”

“Hold still for a moment.” The old Pegasus said as the Composer held still. “My, look at that… This is your memory?”

“Yes, sir.”

“But…” The Captain tilted his head. “How can that be? Look at the clothing, and there are no electrical wires anywhere. This stuff looks like something out of a hundred or so years ago.” He raised an eyebrow. “Is this a memory we’re seeing?”

“Sir, it’s just as I…” Debussy turned his head and froze. There in the sights of his vision, he saw a filly playing hopscotch underneath the shade of the trees. The Captain went around to see what he was gawking at and saw the young filly that had no cutie mark. A yellow coated, green-eyed foal playing as she hopped from one chalk-drawn square to another. He noted that her brown mane was done up in a style that the old stallion had seen in ancient black-and-white photographs. At first, he wasn’t sure why the unicorn was amazed at this until he whispered aloud: “Chou-Chou…”

Then it clicked. “Is that your daughter?”

Debussy nodded. “I remember now… it was on one spring day that she wanted to come with me on my walks. Most of the time she got distracted and played instead. Since I was always so busy with my work and the… divorce that happened, I decided to take her out of the house for a while so that we may have a chance to bond. And you know what? Her playfulness inspired me. This was the very moment that I decided that I would write to her my apology for putting such a heartache that was going on by immortalizing this moment when she was truly happy.”

The quiet melody came to a close, and gently the vision of the past faded away into nothing. For a long minute, the pub was quiet as a sudden realization came across everypony there. The Captain was the first to speak on their behalf. “How… old are you?”

Debussy shrugged. “Old enough to know that it’s about time that I should make preparations to head home.”
> 19: Morning Lesson in G Major
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“So how exactly did you two find Buch and Moztrot?” The Professor inquired as he was rubbing his temples. When he asked this question, the Crystal Train was moving out of Canterlot towards their next nearby destination – Ponyville. While the sun was rising, he, Prince Shining and the two guards across the table from them in the dining car were sat down to their mugs of coffee.

Offense shrugged. “To be honest, either this was fate or dumb luck. But either way, at least now got four of the twelve guys Inverno resurrected.”

“It’s progress.” Defense nodded in agreement. “Besides, we got to know those guys, Schubit and Maneler a little better.”

“Good for you.” Shining sipped his coffee. “Still, I do find it surprising that Celestia basically throws them an impromptu sleep-over. However, that still doesn’t answer the question of how you were able to find them.”

Both guard brothers glanced at one another for a moment before Defense replied. “Honestly, it’s not that hard to miss when they’ve activated their powers. At the same time, we just… ran into them.”

“Yeah," Offense nodded, "but the places we found them seemed random to me, if I’m being honest. One was performing with an orchestra at some Opera House and the other was a DJ at a dance club.”

“In hindsight,” Professor Key commented, “the dance club should have been obvious to me. Considering what I know about Moztrot, he was somepony as much of a party animal as he was a hard worker. But to be honest, I’m more surprised that he spent the night with Princess Celestia.”

“How come?” The three other stallions asked in unison.

After taking another sip of his coffee, the Professor told them. “Because in a way, she ruined his life.”

“What?” Shining asked in shock. “How can you say that?”

“To be fair, it wasn’t entirely her fault. Back when Moztrot was alive, he had gained favor of the Princess at first through an opera of his. There is documentation to say that she did like his music. However, the other composers at the time persuaded her to not only not give him any position in court but reduced his salary to a very meager sum.” The old professor shook his head. “Moztrot was forced to quit when his family was basically driven into the gutter. He died penniless. And as for Celestia, by the time she figured out what was really going on, it was too late.”

“Do you think that Princess Celestia invited them over to the castle to apologize to him?” Shining inquired.

The Professor said he didn’t quite know. Just then, from the head of the car, the door was opened and Inverno walked right in, carrying a few pages of sheet music in his aura. He passed by them with a cheerful, “Good morning!”

“Inverno?” Shining called out, getting his son’s attention. “Where are you going? Aren’t you going to have breakfast?”

“I want to have my lessons early.”

“At half-past nine in the morning?” Key Signature tilted his head, pulling out his pocket watch.

He nodded. “I figured that since we’ll be at the next stop by noon, that I want to start my lesson early. Besides,” he grinned, “it’s not every day that you get to compose with Buch and Moztrot!”

“Have you met them?”

“No.” After a pause, the colt tilted his head. “Why? Have you?”

“Well… not exactly…”

“Why?”

The Professor coughed into his hoof. “It’s just… well… I know this sounds silly, but I’m rather… nervous meeting them. Buch in particular.”

“How come?” Shining tilted his head. “Was he a jerk?”

“No! Celestia, no! It’s not that at all. It’s just… he’s an idol of mine.” The old stallion confessed. “Without him, music, as we know it, may not exist the way it does. He laid down a legacy that is immeasurable. His work was some of the first pieces of music I’ve learned to play. And his technique is what I strived to teach my students.”

Inverno walked up to the aged teacher and took his hoof. “You know what? I’m nervous about meeting them too. But if you want, you can meet them with me so it wouldn’t be so bad. I want to meet with all of them when I still can to learn a thing or two from them, as much as you probably want to as well. So, would you come with me?”

After thinking for a moment, looking between him and the door towards the back of the car, the Professor took hold of his coffee and got up. “You’re right. It’s about time we go talk to the masters.”





When the light provided to be too much, it forced Buch’s eyes to open. At first, he was startled that not only was he moving but that he was someplace else. The last thing he remembered before sleep overtook him was that he was in a guestroom of Canterlot Castle. Now he found waking up with a jolt that he was inside the crystal, see-through train car that was curling down the mountainside. He took notice from his bunk that the other stallions, Moztrot and Schubit were still asleep or at least trying to with a pillow over their eyes.

The only one that was obviously awake was Maneler who was in the balcony part of the car with a mug in his cloven-hooves. He also noticed a pot with a few mugs that were on a tray next to the deer. Judging by the smell, it was the alluring scent of freshly brewed coffee. So, rolling over onto the floor, Buch got onto his hooves as he trudged his way towards the very back of the car.

Maneler noticed him when he opened the door. “Ah, I was beginning to wonder when one of you was going to wake up.”

“Where are we?”

“I was told that we were heading towards a small town called Ponyville.” After Buch gave a confused look, he explained, “It’s a place that’s nearby Canterlot, in a valley that shouldn’t be too far from here. Coffee?”

Maneler put his mug down to pour for the Pegasus his share of the black liquid.

“How did we get here?” Buch asked.

“I believe Princess Celestia had a role in that. Probably teleported us in our sleep. Either way, this train is going towards Ponyville where, as I have heard, there are supposedly two more composers like us there. If any of us finds them or not is a different issue.”

“Ah…” The Pegasus nodded. “I see…” The two of them sat there in silence, watching the railroad track flying right underneath them. “Out of curiosity, sir,” Buch started up, “what is your opinion of our fellow travel companions?”

“Where do I start?” The deer chuckled. “Schubit is a sort of stick in the mud, but he can warm up once you get to know him a little. Moztrot, as far as I can see it from last night… he’s… young at heart. A jovial kind of pony to all except for Celestia… I don’t know why.”

Buch cleared his throat. “I confess, I know why.”

Maneler raised an eyebrow. “You do?”

He nodded. “Do you recall last night that she wanted to have a private audience with him?”

“I do.”

“Well, at one point I decided to get up to find the kitchens as I was feeling rather puckish but didn’t want to disturb the servants. Of course, I asked the guards where it is, and they pointed to me where. But on the way down, I happened to hear their voices. Now, I don’t believe I have heard the whole conversation, but I did catch that Celestia was apologizing to him.”

“Really? What for?”

Buch shrugged, “From what I can gather, I think he was once a court musician to her and somepony had convinced her to not only lower his salary, but forced him to quit, sending him and his family into poverty. But Mr. Moztrot… well, he did sound quite upset.” Maneler didn’t say anything as he focused for a moment on his drink. Fortunately, Buch filled the silence. “To be fair, I can’t entirely blame him for having such thoughts against Her Holiness. To be released like that without so much as a reference for even the lower nobility is enough to make one angry.”

“You’re speaking as if you’re a servant.”

“That’s because we were. At least, in the time I came from. We were servants to the wealthy and powerful. To compose music for whatever occasion they requested. I served that very duty with dedication. But it is a position I am grateful for. For we may be servants but were educated ones at that – for given the task we had, we had to be.”

Maneler smirked, “I suppose it shows how much different our times are. Of course, I did have my jobs, mainly conducting for operas and orchestras, but the work I did was simply because I wanted to, not necessarily through a commission.”

“You are very fortunate indeed. To be free to peruse your interests. But I, with the family I had, have to make ends meet.”

“Don’t we all?”

Buch couldn’t deny that fact. But before he could take another sip, they heard the door at the other end of the car be opened. The first to enter was a pale colt that walked in with a spring in his step, while the second was an older yellow stallion who was shaking as he entered. The Pegasus looked up to the deer with confusion, but Maneler with a knowing look replied. “Ah yes, I don’t think you were introduced to the colt that gave us a second chance of life.”

They watched the two of them walked across the car over to the observation car with the colt first to enter. “Mr. Buch?” He said as he held up a hoof. “My name is Inverno, I’m a fanatic of your work, sir.” 

“Oh…” Buch gingerly took up the hoof to shake it, despite having a cautious look when he saw the colt’s scarlet cat-like eyes. “Thank you?”

“And this is my teacher, Professor Key Signature, he likes your music too.”

Before the Pegasus could do or say anything when he turned his attention towards the elderly stallion, he was already kowtowed to the floor, kissing his hoof. “I’m not worthy,” the Professor said, thus earning him an eye roll from his idol. 

“Please get up, sir,” Buch told him as he helped him to his hooves. “I already had received some awkward worship from Celestia (of all ponies,) I’m sure that is already enough.”

“Oh, uh…” Key stuttered. “F-Forgive me I… I-I…”

“It would seem that the old Professor has a serious case of being star-struck.” Maneler chuckled. Inverno asked him what that meant. “It a sort of nervousness one feels when somepony encounters a personal hero of theirs. Where one gets so nervous and excited that they lose their powers of speech and nearly faint.”

Buch blinked. “Is that why he’s acting like this?” The Professor nodded to him. To this, the Pegasus tilted his head. “But… why me?”

“B-Because…” The old professor took in a deep breath, taking a moment to think about his response. “Sir, you are a great influence on me. Indirectly as it may be, your work had helped shape the pony that I am today. I play the piano, the organ, harpsichord, and other key instruments because of you. Your perspective on music influenced how I teach my students. Although there are a million things in my mind that I would like to say for the legacy you left behind, I can only sum it all up simply as this: thank you, Mr. Buch.”

Upon hearing this, Buch put a hoof up to his withers and bowed. “I am humbled.”

“What about Moztrot?” Inverno asked, pointing to one of the bunk beds. “Is he awake? I’d like to meet him too.”

“Good luck,” Maneler said. “I wasn’t exactly quiet when I woke up early so, I think he’s mostly still sound asleep.”

The Professor eyed the grand piano that was in the crystal car and hummed in thought. Exiting the observation room, he walked over to the keys of the piano. 

“Professor Key?” Inverno asked. “What are you doing?”

“Watch this.” The elderly stallion raised a hoof and began to play out a tune. A Moztrot melody that he stopped a few notes before completing. He repeated this a few times until the composer of that tune started to stir. Another round, Moztrot flopped himself to the floor and marched over to the piano to finish off the final notes. 

“Celestia I hate when I have to be wakened up like that.” He muttered. “It’s worse enough when Papa did it.”

“Welcome back to the land of the living.” Maneler chuckled as he poured a cup of coffee into another mug. “I think you might be in need of this.”

Moztrot didn’t say anything as he took the mug into his hoof took a gulp of the bitterly black liquid, letting it take a minute to really wake him up. “Thank you…” After a couple more sips, he notices Inverno and the professor. “So, who are these two?”

“The colt is named Inverno,” Buch informed him, “and the other is Professor Key Signature.”

“Inverno…?” Moztrot walked up to him. “If I recall correctly, Princess Celestia said that a colt name Inverno was the one who is responsible for bringing us (plus a few others) back from the dead by using necromancy. Is that right?”

“Um…” Inverno’s eyes shifted, his mind going blank as to what to say.

In that moment of being uncomfortable with Moztrot staring down at him with a glare, that suddenly his mood changed that to laughter. “Oh, I’m only messing with you child! You must learn to lighten up your mood around me. After all, you don’t have to be nervous, considering what Princess Sunbutt has told me about you.”

“Sunbutt?”

“His nickname for Celestia.” Professor Key sighed. “He’s the very few ponies to call her that and live.”

“I know it may not look like it,” Moztrot said to him, “But the stoic Princess of the Sun does love to laugh if you get into her sense of humor. Now, where was I? Oh yes! What she told me about you, young Inverno! That I hear that you’re a composer, and at the age of fourteen too!”

“Well…” Inverno blushed as he rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m only still learning, sir.”

“Oh, don’t call me sir,” he waved a dismissive hoof. “That was a title my Papa used. No, we are composers, aren’t we? We’re all equals here. Even Grandpa Buch is an equal.”

“Grandpa what?” Buch asked but his question was ignored.

“So, what’s this you got here?” He snatched the sheet music out of Inverno’s aura. “Is this yours?”

“It’s not done yet,” he said, “but it is something I have been working on.”

Moztrot held the sheet music in his hooves, scanning each bar of each page. He gestured for Maneler and Buch over to take a look at it before turning over to the sleeping Schubit. “Hey, Grumpypants, wake up!” 

“What?” The unicorn grumbled.

“Wake up and take a look at this.”

Schubit lit up his horn to put on his spectacles. “What could be so important to wake me up at this hour?”

“This!” He said as he shoved the manuscript in his face. “Take a look at it.”

After Schubit muttered something incoherent, he took the manuscript into his aura to look it over. He studied at the short melody for a moment before giving it back to Moztrot. “It’s a nice little tune. So why is it worth waking me up for?”

“I believe that this young stallion here,” he pointed to Inverno, “has given us a puzzle.”

“May I see that?” Buch asked, taking the manuscript into his wing. “Oh! I know what this is. It’s a canon.” Almost immediately, his mind looked through this short melody, only a few bars long as he could see the possibilities that could be constructed. “Tell me, child, is this your own invention?”

Inverno nodded. “I’ve worked almost all night on it. Of course, I had to correct it many times, but I was hoping to learn more about counterpoint and how to further develop a melody.”

“And he needs to polish up when it comes to harmony.” Maneler pointed out. “I have to give him some pointers when I showed him about orchestration.”

“Now that is a serious matter.” Said Buch. “After all, harmony is next to Godliness. Now come, child.” He turned and walked towards the piano. “We shall use what you have as a teaching tool. You must show me how much you know of how to balance a phrase.”
> 20: Of Fire, Storm, and Air in B Minor
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

At Ponyville’s train station, a mare with her dragon assistant was waiting. A unicorn that impatiently looked up and down the tracks for some sign of a train. Every so often she would take a glance at the clock to check and recheck again.

“I’m sure Shining will be here on time.” The baby dragon told her. “You just have to wait one more minute.”

“I know that, but this is my brother that’s coming, and my nephew too on urgent business. What could it be? All I know is that it has something to do with Inverno tampering with forbidden magic and needs my help.”

“Twilight, I know perfectly well what that letter says.” He tells her in a calming voice. “Whatever it is, I’m sure that it’s not a world-ending crisis or anything like that.”

“Spike, I rather doubt that if my brother specifically wrote the words ‘urgent,’ or ‘misadventure,’ to describe what my nephew has gotten into, I’m pretty sure that he isn’t just coming over here just to say hello.”

Before the young drake could reply, a piercing whistle of a train echoed through the valley, and the two turned their heads to the crystalized engine pulling in. It slowed down enough to where the rows of cars came perfectly lined up with the wooden platform. Once the train came to a stop, the doors were opened, and out galloped the Prince. 

“Twilie!”

“Shining!”

The two siblings embraced in a tight hug. 

“I’ve missed you so much L.S.B.F.F. How are you doing?”

“It’s so good to see you again, B.B.B.F.F. But what’s going on?” The two of them broke the hug. “I got your letter from last night; only it wasn’t specific as to what was happening.”

“Oh…” Shining blushed in embarrassment. “Sorry, there was a lot that was going on last night that must have gone over my head. But to make a long story short, it has to do with Inverno.”

“Yes. Your letter mentioned that it was magic based. So what happened?”

“Come on board. It’s best that you see it for yourself.”

Exchanging curious looks between her assistant, Twilight followed her brother on board the train. She and Spike followed him through the private car towards the back.

“Mind explaining then what’s going on?”

“Right. Well, not too long ago, Cadence and I decided to send Inverno to a public school. Both to have him catch up with the times and make new friends. However… It uh… backfired.”

“Why? What did he do?”

“Don’t worry, he didn’t turn evil and burn down the school.” He chuckled as they crossed over into the dining car. “Turns out, he couldn’t really connect with anypony, he felt that no one shared any of his interests. So eventually he decided to use magic to fix his problem.”

Twilight froze. “What did he do?”

Shining stopped as well. “For starters, he took a page out of his father’s book. Literally. He found a spellbook that Sombra had compiled and decided that if he can’t find anyone to be friends with, he’ll just uh… make… them.”

By now his sister was in his face. “What did he do?” She asked in a chilly tone.

He gulped. “To make a complicated story short… he used a form of necromancy to bring back twelve famous composers to life while giving them a variation of his unique ability. And I don’t mean just seeing music, but they’re able to bring what Inverno sees into reality.”

Twilight’s jaw dropped in shock. So, Spike decided this was the time to project his voice. “Isn’t doing stuff like that… I don’t know, forbidden?”

“Why do you think I’m here? I’m helping him correct his mistake. Turns out there is a way to reverse it, but at the moment, we’re just trying to gather them up.” Shining turned around and proceeded down. “So far we’ve got four of the twelve he resurrected, and we think that there’re two more here in Ponyville.”

Snapping out of her shock, his sister trotted up to him as they passed on to the servant’s car. “Shining, why didn’t you tell me this earlier? I could have gotten the girls together to help.”

“Up until now, I thought that this would have been easy. However, trying to find these guys is proven to be a bigger challenge than we thought. Now I’m not asking you if you want to come with us for the rest of this trip, but considering how difficult and long this is taking, I would need all the help I could get.”

As they passed on next into the guard’s car, Twilight asked, “So, who exactly did Inverno resurrected?”

“As in all of them or who we got so far?”

“…. The latter I guess?”

“For one, all of them are composers. As to who they are…” He halted before the door to the caboose where piano music is heard, and through they can see a group of ponies gathered around a baby grand piano. “How about we go in and meet them?”

Shining opened the final door and they were greeted with a flourish of notes that tickled the air and enriched by lower tones of chords before it was rounded and finished. There was stomping of hooves that applauded when the three of them entered in. 

“You see!” An excitable voice said. “It’s not so hard, isn’t it?”

“Although there was a couple of phrases that didn’t sound quite right.” Said a unicorn with glasses. “To my ears, there were some parts that sounded funny.”

“I rather like it.” Remarked a deer. “Not quite your style, Mr. Moztrot, but still delightful.”

The Professor looked over behind him, taking notice of the unicorn next to the Prince. “Ah, Ms. Sparkle, I haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Just Twilight. So, what were you all doing?”

“Giving the young stallion some direction in harmony and counterpoint.” A green Pegasus stallion informed. “And I must say, he’s thankfully a swift learner.”

“Twilight!” Inverno leaped off the piano bench and quickly went over to hug her. “I’ve been reading up that spellbook you’ve sent me.”

“So I’ve noticed.” The colt looked up to see a frown on her face. “I’ve also heard that you’re in big trouble too.”

His ears folded back against his head; guilt weighed heavily in his stomach. “I know… and I’m sorry.”

“I will have a talk with you later, it’s just that…” She lowered her head to his eye level. “It’s kind of disheartening that you were having trouble with friendship and you could have at least sent me a letter on the issue. But having to turn to forbidden magic isn’t exactly the way to deal with your troubles.”

“Excuse us,” Twilight looked up to the deer that was addressing her. “Who exactly are you?” After she introduced her name and relaying the fact that she’s Shining’s sister and Inverno’s aunt, the deer nodded. “I see. My name is Maneler, these three are Buch, Moztrot, and Schubit. The old stallion is-”

“Professor Key Signature,” Twilight interrupted. “We’ve met.” She turned to them. “So I’ve heard that you are in need of help finding a few ponies.”





There was so much of Paganeighni’s style that Vifilli could barely tolerate. It wasn’t so much that there wasn’t some small part of him that respected the virtuosity of the griffin’s technique to draw in a crowd that bothered him. If anything, there were a few tricks that even he was familiar with from playing really high notes over the soundboard of the violin, the rapid motion of the bow from one string to the next, even the double and sometimes triple stops that really made the thrown away instrument in the black griffin’s talons that made it sing.

What caused him to be on the other side of the market place was to get as far away as possible from his… “friend.” However, the way Paganeighni used his talent he found distasteful. Weird harmonies, string breaking pizzicato, melodies that have little rhyme or reason to the point where at times it made the violin sound like a dying animal than a thing of beauty. How exactly that any of this still was able to draw in ponies was beyond his comprehension. 

So his attention was turned to the other ponies who were shopping in the market itself. While he had seen such a place as many times he could remember, this market still very alien to him. There was a lack of chaotic energy of the vendors, the street acts that competed for attention, and most importantly, the foods that tempted. Although in the past few days that he had indeed seen a few of these, it wasn’t the same familiarity of Venice. Still, that didn’t stop him from trying to find something amusing or interesting.

Fortunately, he did find just that. Over where the vegetables were, he spotted Fluttershy with a basket in her teeth. Such a sight filled him with joy, and when he noticed that a head of cabbage fell out, he swiftly went out to pick it up. “Excuse me, Ms. Fluttershy!” he called out. “You dropped this.”

The mare turned around, at first startled but took a calming breath. “Oh, thank you… Antonio, was it? I’m sorry if I forgot your name.”

“Oh no-no, that is my name, and here,” he held out the cabbage, “this fell out of your basket.”

Fluttershy thanked him as the vegetable was put black in its place. “I was running to restock on groceries. Running low on a few things, you see.”

“Ah,” he nodded, “I’m just waiting for my friend to finish.”

“Shopping?”

“Earning bits. You see that crowd over there was that Celestia-awful music?” he pointed a hoof. “He’s over there playing the violin as if he’s possessed by Discord himself.”

She tilted her head over, her ears perked up to listen to the whispers of the instrument. “I don’t think it’s that bad. A little wild, maybe. But I really don’t mind.”

Vifilly huffed. “Personally, I can’t stand it.”

“Why not?”

“Because where I come from, we Venetians always have an appreciation for beauty. Especially when it comes to music. The canals often ring of the singing gondoliers, trying to remember a tune they’ve heard from the opera. There wasn't a place where you could go anywhere and not hear something that would make your heart swoon from a theatrical keyboard to a crying violin. But even with the most tragic of tunes, they are still heartbreakingly beautiful. Not like this. Being a virtuoso is one thing, but to abuse it like this where it sounds like a poor creature’s final moments is disgraceful.”

“You sound very proud for a priest.”

The stallion blushed at this. “Oh… Was I? I didn’t realize what was pouring out of my mouth.”

“It’s okay.” She parted her long pink mane to the side. “Since you’re here, I want to give my thanks for helping me with my garden the other day. It still looks gorgeous, and my animal friends are amazed by it.”

“I am humbled.” He bowed his head. “Although, you should probably be thanking Celestia for the miracle.”

“Celestia?”

“Well, naturally.” He looked up to the sun. “Her light and warmth have given her blessing to let your garden grow into something truly magnificent.”

“But it was you that made it happen. And I would never be able to get it done sooner until you did… whatever it was you did.”

“Thank you, I suppose.” His ears folded back against his head. “But just to be clear, I didn’t come across being too forward, was I? Because that wasn’t my intention.”

The Pegasus tilted her head. “What do you mean?”

“Well… My friend had joked that I was apparently was trying to woo you, but I swear that I wasn't trying to. What happened on that day was purely out of kindness.”

“Oh.” She smiled. “I still appreciate it.”

“A likely story.” The two of them instantly looked up to see where that voice was coming from. The black griffin hovering over with an amused look on his face. Holding up his beat-up violin in one claw and a hat full of bits in the other. “I mean really if you’re gonna play dumb Antonio, the least you could do is make it a little more convincing.”

Vifilli frowned. “I thought you would be playing for another hour.”

“No need. Have you see this?” He drops the hat between him and Fluttershy, coins overflowed out of it. “I got all of this half the time, so I decided to call it a day.” He glides down between the two. “Ya know, maybe you should give the fiddle a try. I mean, you did say that you used to play the violin, right?”

“Well, yes-”

“Then why not give it a go?” He held the instrument and the bow up to him. “If you’re good, I’d bet it’ll be more than enough to woo your marefriend into courting with you.”

“She’s not my-” He interjected but stopped himself as Fluttershy’s cheeks were turning an embarrassing shade of pink. “Seriously, what is with you and your nymphomaniac mind of yours?”

He shrugged. “Is it unnatural for anyone to gain the attention, if not the company of the fair creatures? Of course, my looks don’t do justice for me, I grant that. I know am not handsome, but when mares hear me play, they come crawling. So here, take it. Let’s see what you can come up with.”

“I refuse to play on something that something so demonic had come out of.”

Paganeighni frowned. “You know, I’m starting to get really sick of your holier-than-thou attitude. Maybe if you would get down from thy holy pedestal of self-righteousness because thou were from a cult and instead enjoy the pleasures of life, then thou mightiest get the stick out of thy plot.”

The red Pegasus’s eye twitched. “How dare you mock me.”

“Um,” Fluttershy tried to speak up and failed.

“After giving me nothing but chastisement, yes! Yes, I am. I am mocking you because you deserved to get your impossibly high standard down to earth.”

“I’m a priest! I’m supposed to have high standards!”

“Not when it comes to bringing flowers to a mare that you clearly turning a deeper shade of red? Even a foal with his brain removed could see that!”

“Now now, let’s not fight.” Fluttershy once again tries to calm both of them down. But they weren’t paying attention to her.

“You are just taking things out of context. Unlike your music. It sounds like the very screams of Tartarus.”

The grip became tighter around the violin’s neck in Paganeighni’s claw. “Oh? Is that what you think of my genius? Nothing but the sounds of that lake of fire?” He suddenly held up the instrument up to underneath his chin and raising the bow in his right claw. “I will show you fire!”



Several things happened at once when Paganeighni drew his bow across the strings, unleashing a series of cascading scale of notes growing increasingly higher. The daylight all around them was becoming dimmer like an eclipse. At the same time, the air itself felt like it was growing warmer. Nopony around them knew what was happening or what was going on. And at first, none of the ponies moved as no one could guess what was going on.

And then, Paganeighni played what could be called rage in musical form. 

Notes came in sharp and fast like bolts of arrows that came flying out of the violin itself! In an instant, food stands, the ground, buildings, and trees were catching fire. Panic quickly set the ponies running for cover from this volcanic violinist that showed no mercy from the lightning notes that jumped from his bow. Screams of “FIRE” echoed out like the instrument. 

Fluttershy screamed when her basket was hit by one of these fiery arrows, sending her off running. Vifilli, both in awe of the horrific act of this sudden burst of magic and enraged by it, shouted at him. “What the blazing pits of Tartarus are you doing!?”

“Giving you what you want!” Paganeighni screamed back, his voice sounded distorted out of his rage but continued playing. “You see me as a demon, do you?! Well, I’m going to give you all the fire, the passion, and the sadistic might of one!” Lines of arrows were aimed at Antonio but thinking quickly, the Pegasus took flight before he could be hit by them. “There’s no way of pleasing you, isn’t there?! You’re all the same, you self-righteous hypocrites! You have no right condemning me for being different! I can bring up storms! Let my melody be a serine’s voice to seduce all that hear it! But all you see in me is nothing but darkness when you know nothing about me!”

“Says the brat that’s throwing a temper tantrum!” 

“At least I have passion!” Another cloud of arrows was shot and missed the Pegasus. “What do you got?”

Something within Vifilli snapped. That last bit of patience of his civility up until now had gone up in smoke with the fires that had started all around. In his blinding anger, he felt something solid in his hooves. Looking down he saw that he was holding bolts of lightning that sparked and flickered – yet they remained their constant shape of a violin and a bow. His glare back at the black griffin, he put the violin underneath his chin.

“You want a storm!?” He shouted, raising the bow up in the air. “I’LL GIVE YOU A STORM!”



As soon as the bow touched those electrical strings, a rapid-fire of notes came out in a barrage so sudden, that even Paganeighni was forced to stop. Before he could register what was going on, he was slapped right out of the air by a strong gust of wind and smacked face-first into a wall. Icy rain immediately followed to put out the fires, not to stop the destruction, but to spread its raging chaos. For Vifilli, the wind, rain, and lightning were at his command by the notes he speedily plays. The storm twisted around him like a tornado that sucked up anything that was loose and flung it around like an angry toddler with their toys. 

While this was going on, new figures entered into the market place. Shining, Key Signature, Twilight, the other composers, and the Crystal Guard had arrived to brave the sudden storm. 

“What the hey is going on!?” Shining shouted above the wind and the livid violin music.

“That’s Vifilli!” The Professor pointed at the Pegasus in the air. “He’s playing his storm!”

Schubit was holding onto a tree. “He’s going to destroy the town! What do we do?!”

“Either we have to let him play out,” Key answered as a house flew over their heads, “or perhaps one of you could put a stop to it.”

“How!?” Twilight asked, casting a spell to put up a magical shield.

Hanging onto that same tree, Moztrot thought of something, “Hey you!” He called out to Schubit, “Remember what happened last night when you interrupted me? What if one of us does that?”

Buch, upon hearing this, got an idea. Spreading his wide wings, he sprung forward with a determined look towards the center of the cyclone. His memories reached back to the time with his family when his many foals had bickered or argued when he got home. Taking care not to get hit, he felt that strange sensation that was swelling up inside him as a tune came to his mind. Like a father, he approached the raging Vifilli and with a commanding voice shouted.

“THAT IS ENOUGH!”



Out of him, a burst of light interrupted the storm, freezing the fury in one single, ethereal note. The storm that threatens to tear down was stopped by the very sound of peace itself. The whirlwind had paused, the rain stopped, and the lightning was put to rest. Even the instrument of rage that was in Vifilli’s hooves had disappeared, much to the red pony’s confusion. 

“What?” 

“Is this any way to behave?” Buch questioned. “Look around you, this place is a mess! There are scorch marks everywhere, trees are missing, houses been thrown about, and look there! There are ponies that are frightened because of your tantrum.”

“B-But, he…” The combination of the green pegasus’s look and magic gave the effect like he was a colt being disciplined by his father. “He started it!” He pointed at the dazed griffin that slumped down at a wall. 

“So? Instead of being the better stallion, you let your passions and emotions control you. Instead of walking away, or not reacting the way that he did, you become a tyrannical bully. You ought to be ashamed of yourself!” The red stallion bowed his head in shame. But feeling compassion, he placed a hoof on his shoulder. “So, I will tell you how to atone for yourself. First, you make amends with that… griffin fellow over there. Next, you apologize to these good ponies of this town. And then you and the griffin are going to have to clean up the mess the both of you had caused. And I don’t want a word of protest either!”

Vifilli looked up, “Or, you could let your magic do it anyway?”

“Huh?” Buch looked around, and his music was indeed restoring the market place from the fire and the storm. Blackened arrows and scotch marks crumbled away and reversed the burns that they touched. Trees and homes were softly picked up to be placed back to their original state, even the booths that were tossed around were reorganized. Not only that, but the ponies that took cover were coming out to the tranquility that was all around them. “Ah… well, there is still the matter of making amends that must be attended to. Now come on! Go down there and tell that griffin you’re sorry.”

“But-”

“Ah-Ah! No but’s. Apologizes first, excuses later.”

Begrudgingly, the pegasi landed in front of the griffin in which Buch made Vifilli apologize to Paganeighni and he to him. Next, after getting the black griffin to stand up, he then made the both of them face the residences of Ponyville to offer up their apology.

“We’re sorry for getting angry and almost destroying the town.” They both said.

“And…” Buch insisted further.

They sighed. “And we promise not to do it ever again.”

“That’s greatly appreciated,” Twilight said, her brother, the professor, composers, and the Crystal Guard in tow. “But it looks like that you’re gonna have to come with us.”

“Hold on…” The Professor stepped forward to the griffin. “Excuse me, sir, may I ask for what your name is?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Niccolò. It’s Niccalò Paganeighni.”

“Well in that case,” Shining told him, “You’re coming with us too.”

“Me? But what did I do?”

Vifilli gave him a deadpan stare. “How about almost setting the town on fire? Is that a good enough reason to be taken into custody?”

“That being the case, and what my sister’s friend has told us,” Shining lit up his horn and a pair of hoofcuffs were placed on both of them. “Mr. Paganeighni and Mr. Vifilli, as Prince, I’m placing both of you under arrest for attempted arson and destruction of property on behalf of the crown of Equestria.”
> 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.
> 22: Tchaicoltsky’s Fear in C# minor
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dr. Assurance waited in his office, looking out the enormous window to the street below. Although he's used to working with patients that held many secrets and had just as much mystery about them – often several at the same time – the case with his friend has proved to be the most intriguing of all. In the last few days, Mr. Ski has been giving him more and more clues that help draw up his psychological profile. 

However, it wasn’t so much the fact that he had a gut feeling that there were some things that Mr. Ski was not telling him. That was obvious from Ski's hesitation to come out. Rather, it was in part the details he did give away, and part of his appearance was uncannily similar to a historical figure that he decided to look up. Ever since he noticed the face on the packet of tea, the therapist looked up on the composer Tchaicoltsky. From there, he found plenty of similarities between the two. No, not similar – exact! From his issues with his mother to his closeted homosexuality, the fact he used to compose music, even sharing the same favorite foods were just like this composer that lived centuries ago. 

His rational side was telling the doctor that something about this case didn’t feel right. Something was unquestionably off. Luckily, for his upcoming session with his patient, he has the perfect tool to settle these confusing thoughts and doubts to rest.

Then, right on time, he spots Mr. Ski, flying down the street and landing right before the entrance towards his office. Turning around, he made sure that everything he needed was there and ready. The phonograph, the special record, and the tray to make Budyonny style tea. He waited for a minute before his sectary told him that his client has arrived. A moment later, the Pegasus stallion entered, Assurance noted that he didn’t look malnourished this time around.

“Good afternoon, doctor.” His client said, flashing a smile.

“Hello Mr. Ski,” he nodded, “you look better than before. I take the shelter is taking good care of you.”

“Yes, they have been doing what they can to help me. You know with having a place to sleep, warm food and wonderful support as well. In fact, there’s been talk that they may help me get a job soon.”

“Oh good. That’s wonderful to hear. Tea?”

After the doctor help to dish out the right amount of black tea, honey, and raspberries, Tchaicoltsky asked, “So, my good doctor, what are we going to be talking about today?” He asked, taking a seat in the other comfy chair.

“Well for today, I want to try something different.”

“Like what?”

Assurance lit up his horn to crank the phonograph. “Well since you have gotten to a point where you can trust me, I’d figure that for our session we could try out a special type of therapy that’s based in magic. One that would help me gain some insight into my client’s state of mind just by looking into their meditation on a question.”

Tchaicoltsky tensed up. “As in… mind reading?”

“Well yes and no. The spell itself has a lot of complicated jargon but essentially, it would have me have access to your mind, but at the same time, you will be there to show me around like a guide would in a city. And don’t worry – since you’re the one going to be showing me around, you can only show me what you want to.”

“I-I don’t know…”

“This therapy has helped out many of my clients, helping them explore issues that they’ve either forgotten or confront something that they couldn’t do on their own. But don’t worry, regardless of what happens, I’ll be right here beside you. There will be no judgment on my part, only for me willing to understand how and why you work.”

“What’s the phonograph for?”

The doctor stopped cranking the machine and held up a record. “This therapy requires a good amount of focus. This record is blank except for a soft, crackling vinyl – basically white noise that helps me have a clear mind and focus completely on you. So, do you want to give it a try?”

His client shifted in his seat. “What do you expect to find?”

“In short, to find clues about yourself. I want to understand what made you who you are today. But all of that lies in your thoughts.”

After giving the reassurance that he had complete control, Tchaicoltsky agreed. 

The therapist told him to relax and closed his eyes. Once this was done, Assurance lit up his horn to first, place the record on the turntable and the needle down so that office was only filled with the soft crackling noise of the record. Then, he too closed his eyes and focused his magic on the spell. It took him several moments to prepare, but when he got everything ready, he stretched his aura out to his patient.

The first thing the two stallions saw was that they stood in the wings of an enormous stage with a red curtain drawn. There were lights above them, but most of it was completely dark. 

“Where… Where are we?”

“I’m in your mind.” The Doctor told him. “Just remember, you are in complete control of what I get to see and hear.”

“But… what?” Tchaicoltsky asked timidly.

“For now,” he said, patting his back, “I want to ask you one question. Mr. Ski, what are you afraid of?”

The Pegasus took a few steps back. “Doctor… I… I don’t if…”

“It’s alright,” he said, with a voice warm and gentle, “no matter what happens, I’ll be right here beside you.”

The wide scarlet curtain had risen up, a row of stage lights lined all along the floor, seemingly stretching into infinity. And a soft mummer of voices like that of an audience was heard. The therapist saw his patient, shaking like a wet dog, frightened.

“P-Please,” Tchaicoltsky begged. “Please don’t make me go out there.”

“Mr. Ski. I know you’re scared. But whatever it is that’s out there, you can’t let it control you. What’s out there in the dark, it can’t ever hurt you no matter how much it tries to convince you that it can.”

“But I can’t… I can’t control my demons out there.”

His unicorn friend hummed in thought. “You’re right.” He said, surprising the Pegasus. “You can’t bend the demons out there to your will. That’s impossible. So instead, try realizing the truth.”

“What truth?”

“There are no demons. Once you realize this, you’ll find that it isn’t the demons that move, it’s you. It’s how you see them. If they are as real as we are, they will remain so. But if you take a good long look at them, you’ll realize that there wasn’t anything there in the dark.” He held out a hoof to him. “So please, show me. Let me see.”

Tchaicoltsky hesitated, a shaking hoof reaching out to hold onto like a frightened child. “They’re expecting us to dance… I never danced in front of so many before.”

“Very well.” Assurance stood up on his hind legs, compelling the other stallion to do the same, taking hooves to be placed in a certain way. 

The Pegasus blushed, “I never thought you knew how to dance.”

“Not always, but for the sake of this therapy, I’ll let you take the lead.”

Gulping, he led the doctor into a clumsy waltz into the dark.



As soon as they stepped out onto that universe of a stage, a spotlight fell upon them as the audience was suddenly hushed and a dark, black melody was playing. Dr. Assurance silently took note that the music was a distorted tune out of Tchaicoltsky’s ballets with an out-of-tune piano and cello. As they danced, for a moment, they didn’t encounter anyone until a figure emerged from the darkness. It was a sickly-looking mare who was giving out some nasty coughing. 

“Pyotr.” The mare weakly called out between coughs.

The Pegasus tensed. “M-Mama?”

“Why didn’t you – cough – come?” She asked. “I was dying and – cough, cough – scared. I wanted to hear you play one last – cough – time. Where were you? I placed so much of my faith in you.”

“I didn’t know.” Tchaicoltsky shut his eyes tightly. “The boarding school had kept me so busy that I didn’t know you past until it was too late.”

'Just like the real Tchaicoltsky,' Assurance thought.

“Another lie of yours, brother?” Another shadow approached above them. “Way to disappoint the family. At least I was there when mama died like a good son and we wrote you letters to come as quickly as possible – but where were you? Probably having your backside being stuffed by a stranger in a back alley.”

“That’s not true!”

“Oh-ho really?” Another mare silhouette materialized. “When were you planning on telling me that? To your wife? On top of divorcing me, the secret affairs with stallions, and your broken promise to love me. Why didn’t you tell me you wouldn’t love me?”

“You wouldn’t understand,” Tchaicoltsky said, tears forming in his eyes.

'It's almost beat for beat,' Assurance pondered.

“What’s there not to understand!” Another figure loomed, one that had a suit that was decorated in metals, but the face of the stallion was kept in the darkness. “You’re a pervert, plain a simple! The academy is going to celebrate your arrest, your work detained, and your banishment to Siberia.”

“No! Please, stop!” The Pegasus sobbed into the doctor’s withers. “Make it stop!”

“I’m afraid I can’t.” Assurance told him, trying to continue the waltz. “It’s something you’ll have to confront.”

“Please let me go!”

“No! If you’re not willing to take a closer look at your own fears, they’re just going to hunt you down for the rest of your life. Ignoring the problem is not the same as resolving it. Here,” against Tchaicoltsky’s will, the unicorn pulled him close to the coughing mother. “Look at her.”

“I can’t…” He shook his head, his eyes still firmly closed.

“Mr. Ski,” they stopped, the unicorn strokes his head, “they won’t hurt you. They’ll never will. Look up and see.” 

Sniffing, Tchaicoltsky snakingly looked up, first at the assuring face of the stallion who still held him, and then at the shadow of his mother. Only up close, he noticed that in the dim light, there was no face. If anything, it didn’t even move. Curious, he cautiously lifted a hoof to touch the dark clothing; only to find that he could easily move it.

“Huh?” The Pegasus reached for its face. “It’s… It’s a doll.” He looked over to the flying brother that hovered. Taking flight, he forced it into the spotlight; another dummy. The same to the other mare, and the decorated stallion. They were nothing more than just dolls. “They’re… not real?”

“They never were.” Assurance told him.

“Then… whose making them speak?” 

“Perhaps you shouldn’t be concerned with imaginary fears, Pyotr.” The Pegasus gasped at the mention of his real name. A voice echoed – it sounded just like his voice, only this mocking tone seemed to be coming from everywhere. “Instead, why not you face your real ones? Although, I highly doubt you could even do that.”

“He’s doing very well.” Dr. Assurance said. “Now, where are you? Show yourself!”

“Oh very well, Doctor, if you insist.” Then out from the foot of the stage, hoofsteps were heard, and another spotlight sine down on a second Tchaicoltsky. Although he resembled him very faithfully, there was something... sinister about him. “You know, you ought to give up on him now. It’s useless.”

“What are you?” Tchaicoltsky asked, floating back down on to the stage.

The double chuckled. “I have been with you all your life and you still don’t recognize me, Pyotr? I am a part of you, the voice that you tend to listen to when you’re all by yourself. Call me Fear.”

Assurance looked between the two. “I don't quite understand. Are you afraid of yourself?” He asked his client.

“Worse.” Fear gave a coy smile, walking past him. “I am the very thing that he fears all else. If anything, you being here is his ultimate nightmare.”

“DON’T TELL HIM!” Tchaicoltsky screamed. But before he could flee from the stage, Fear lit up a wing, and rope quickly descended from above like attacking snakes. Each strand coiled around his hooves, midsection, even his head, lifting the terrified Pegasus up like a puppet.

“What was that you said, Doctor? That fears are as real as we make them be? Well in here, I’m a real as they can get.” Assurance lit up his horn, demanding for Fear to let him go. “Ah-ah! Not yet. Believe it or not, I actually want to help you. After all, Pyotr here has been such a bad, bad colt. So he must be punished in the most terrifying way I know how.” He grinned. “I’m going to tell you – everything!”

“NO!” Tchaicoltsky tried to fight his bonds. “Don’t lis-” a rope squeezed his muzzle shut.

Fear casually trotted over to him. “Now now, this is your Doctor, after all, he must know all your secrets so that he can help you.” Fear chuckled gleefully. “Like for example, Doctor Assurance, did you know that this homeless fellow was once a famous composer? I doubt you’ve heard of him, given that it’s been a couple of hundred years, give or take. But this guy, he used to be successful – he had honors, commissions from high places, deemed the master of melody. Yet, here he hides it in front of you, to spare himself of the tremendous fall from the fame he has come. Besides, I guess it wouldn’t help if you’re over a hundred years old. He should be completely forgotten by now.”

Assurance said nothing.

“Or,” he continued, “did you know that this self-confessed pervert hasn’t told you everything? Such as he courted a student of his when he first started teaching? Or that he had anonymous rendezvous with other stallions before he got married? And while I’m at it, this stallion got married not out of love, but because so that it would throw ponies off that he’s unnatural – to make him normal. Even those patron letters he wrote to two other mares were all an act. Or how about the time that his nephew had fallen in love with him? Such a disgusting specimen here. That even when given the second chance of life, what does he do with it? He has to go and develop a crush on the very doctor that saved him.”

Now, this got the therapist’s attention. “He has?”

Tchaicoltsky sobbed in shame.

“I know. A pervert to fall for a stallion that’s already happily married. Just think of the scandal! But oh, that’s nothing!” Fear grinned wickedly. “It doesn’t come close to his biggest secret of all! Especially with the new body he got for this second chance of life.”

“What are you talking about?” Assurance questioned.

Fear didn’t respond, but turned to the frightened Tchaicoltsky, shaking his head, muffling for mercy. “Let’s take off that mask of yours and show him the real you. C’mon, let’s show him your new body!” Fear grabbed Tchaicoltsky's face and tore it off like it was a mask. At first, Assurance was very alarmed that the stallion was caught in the green flames of fire. However, there were no screams as the hide and feathers burned away, peeling back black chitin and translucent wings. 

“Behold, Doctor!” Fear exclaimed, waving a hoof as if showing off a circus freak. “Allow me to present to you – the real face of your client!”

“A Changeling!” Assurance immediately backed away in fright; but at the same time, saw a look of betrayal on that face with tears streaming down.

Just like that, Assurance ended the spell and opened his eyes, back to his office and a crying Pegasus curled into a ball. As much as he wanted to comfort the stallion, his mind was filled with so many questions and at the same time alarm. New body? A Changeling? 

“I’m so sorry…” The Pegasus whispered above his grief. “I’m so sorry…”

Before Assurance could do anything, or to tell him that everything’s going to be okay; he gotten up and rushed out of his office.

“Tchaicoltsky! Wait!” Assurance rushed after him, but he was too slow to reach him. By the time he got to the front entrance of the building he worked in, the Pegasus had already flown away.
> 23: Hauntings in Cb Major
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Can I ask all of you a question?” Inverno asked.

In the dining car, six composers looked up from their plates. Except for Paganeighni eating at the bar, the other five sat down together at a table with Professor Key Signature joining them. The colt himself sat next to Shining that was crammed together next to these colorful group.

“Well certainly,” Moztrot smiled warmly, “but if you’re going to be asking for this squash then I’m not sharing.”

Schubit rolled his eyes.

“It’s actually a personal question,” Inverno said. “I know that you’ve noticed how different things are now, but I was wondering, is there anything all of you missed where you come from?”

“Well, fame for one.” The dark griffon answered. Paganeighni swings around on the barstool. “I don’t know much of any of you, but if there’s anything I missed, it’s playing to a theater of screaming mares. Hopefully one of these days you should allow me to put on a show to a full-size audience.”

“To show off?” Vifilli asked dryly.

“That too. But I’m a natural entertainer; I’m nothing without an audience. I actually enjoyed performing tricks to an adoring public. Such as having the strings break on purpose, so I have to play on one string. Improvise a concerto. Have mares swoon to a soothing melody. Things like that. Still…” He sighed, “It’s rather disheartening that very few know who I am anymore.”

“But you had a very successful career.” The professor pointed out.

“I did. Having an early career is a gift of the gods, the rest is hard work.” He said before picking up a bottle and downing it. 

Inverno turned back to the table, over to Maneler. “What do you miss most?”

Maneler looked over towards the translucent walls of the train. By now, they were flying across the small meadows sandwiched between mountains. Forests of pine just above them and the grass that danced with the wildflowers below near a stream. “Among other things, I miss the freedom to walk through the forest. I missed the solitude of nature – the quiet of it all. I love it so much that three times I constructed huts just to compose in peace.”

Schubit nodded. “I can relate in some ways. I too preferred to write when I’m among the grass, the rocks, and the trees. It’s as if time itself stands still when you’re surrounded by green. I think when I’m alone next to a stream like that over there, is when I’m at my happiest.”

“I understand perfectly.” Maneler nodded. “When I was a crazy young stallion who let himself be blinded by his passions and obeyed the impulses of the moment; the only place I always wanted to live is in a forest. I admit that I never grew out of that desire, if anything, I’m still drawn to it as an old stallion.”

Inverno nodded. “What about you?” He asked Moztrot.

“Ooh, where do I start?” the earth pony leaned back, his forehooves behind his head. “I missed good wine, the fine meals, my red overcoat with the golden buttons, the ability to travel freely, having my works being performed to the public, being able to perform, my wife, two colts, the cat, and being able to drop manure in a bucket.”

The last statement got a spit take from those within earshot. Shining tried (too late) to try to cover Inverno’s ears. “What they hey! Not in front of the kid!”

“Believe it or not,” the Professor informed, “it’s actually very much in character for him. He is known for a love of fart jokes, poop jokes and uh… copulation jokes.”

“That’s because I know how to live.” Moztrot laughed. “I have a rule that I must have my time that’s half work and half parties. It keeps one from becoming a mushroom.”

Buch tilted his head. “A what?”

“A mushroom. One that sits in the same spot collecting moisture, is a bore unless you sprinkle some salt on it.”

“That’s a strange metaphor.” Schubit raised an eyebrow.

“All I insist on, and nothing else, is that one should show the whole world that you are not afraid to speak one’s mind. Be silent, if you choose; but when it is necessary, speak – and do so in a way that ponies will remember it.”

“The nutjob has a point,” Paganeighni commented.

“Why thank you!” Moztrot waved a hoof.

Clearing his throat, the Professor spoke up for the first time. “So that would leave you two, Mr. Buch and Vifilli, what do you miss the most?”

Buch picked up his mug of cider. “I suppose a lot of things. The small uncomplicated towns, how time seems to slow down, the reverence in music. I missed being an organist to take stale hymns and turn them into something worthy of Celestia. This land is completely different from the one I know with machines, and concerts to the point where little is recognizable. However, I suppose the thing I missed the most is my family. My wife was good to me, my surviving children were gifted musically, and even when things turned sour, we still had each other. Like the time I went to prison.” The table became very quiet. “What?”

“You went to prison?” Shining spoke what everyone was thinking.

“For trying to quit.” The green Pegasus took a gulp of his mug. “Years ago, I was used to be employed by a duke; a miserable stallion who was strong-headed. He treated us musicians horribly, and more so to his own family. In fact, the way he treated his nephew was enough to tell him that I was quitting. So, for that, he threw me into the castle jail for several months. Ach, it was hard on my family that I couldn’t support them for a time, but once I was set free, the first thing we did was move.” He turned to the priest. “But enough about me, what about you?”

Vifilli didn’t hesitate. “Venice. It’s the only place in the world that I would consider home. I’ve been to a few cities in my time, but above all else, it is the most beautiful in the world.”

“How come?” Inverno asked.

“Oh, where do I start? For one, the place where I was born, is a city that is built on several dozen islands where the streets are canals. Filed with water that’s right next to the sea. It is a city of mystery and beauty where you could go about anonymously on a gondola. But it’s also a place where, in my day, is the most artistic place in the world where I helped pioneered music to be played and sing underneath the painted domes of houses of worship. That, and the opera house too.” He added with a proud smirk.

“A priest that writes opera?” Schubit raised an eyebrow. “Is that even allowed?”

“It was as long as I don’t promote my work during the sacred services. However, I did get in trouble with the high priest when they found out that my operas were being performed in Venice.” He huffed. “But back then… Oh, I had the best orchestra that I could ask for.”

“The Vailed Orphans Choir and Orchestra.” The Professor said.

Vifilli chuckled. “Ah, I see that their reputation is still remembered after all these years.”

“I only have known about it through history books.” Key Signature confessed. “At their height, they were known to sing like angels and were a professional orchestra playing in cramped conditions. Apparently, they did everything. Including, astonishingly enough, singing the tenor and bass parts of the choir.”

Shining tilted his head. “Why is that astonishing?”

“Because they’re all mares,” Vifilli explained. “I should know, I taught them. They were quite the talented group that could pull off even the most difficult of tasks. A few of the singers had trained their voices to go so low that many were often mistaken to be stallions! In fact, I’ve taught a few virtuosos that ranged from playing the violin to be on the same compacity of my skills to singing like angles.”

This piqued Inverno’s interest. “Can you teach me to sing like that?”

Vifilli chuckled. “Well, I don’t know young one. You seem to be at the age where that high voice should be cracking.”

“No it isn’t, listen.” Inverno sang out a short scale of notes. His voice was not only in perfect pitch but to the composer’s bewilderment, it was unusually high. To their ears when Inverno gave them a sample of his singing capabilities, what they heard didn’t sound like a young child; nor did it sound like a soprano or counter-tenor. It was a rare, pure sounding range of vocals. “I want to know if I can improve what I know.”

Vifilli blinked. “Are you… a castrato?”

“Sorry?”

Shining coughed. “Uh… Mr. Vifilli, a word.”

“What did I do?”

“Nothing just… need to talk to you really quick.”

He and the prince got up from their seats, and Vifilli followed Shining towards the direction of the engine towards the private royal car. Inside, Spike and Twilight were organizing notes while the latter pony was scanning through several books at once. 

“You’re already eaten, Twilie?” Shining asked.

“Yeah, I’m just complying notes comparing the biographies of the composers.”

“Oh… well, should we go someplace else or-”

“I don’t think you’ll be bothering us,” Spike said, placing another bundle of parchment in a pile.

Shining paused for a moment, “Actually since you’re both here, I think you’d probably want to hear this too.” The prince turned towards the red priest. “Look, Mr. Vifilli, I know by now you’ve probably have figured out about my son’s… condition.”

“You didn’t have him-”

“No,” Shining said firmly. “His previous father did. But he doesn’t know the full extent of what him being a… what was the word you used?”

“Castrato?”

“That. The thing is that I don’t know if he’s old enough yet to process what has been done to him. I doubt he knows that he’s been… well… castrated, so I can only assume that this might be a very sensitive topic.”

Vifilli’s ears folded back. “That poor colt.”

“Shining,” Twilight asked, looking up from her research, “can I ask you a personal question?” He told her that she can. “I know he’s practically a teen now, so did you ever take him aside to give him… The Talk?”

“How exactly would I do that? How would I explain it to a guy that’s uh…” He nervously looked over to Spike that raised an eyebrow. “Missing some parts.”

“I can’t believe that barbaric practice is still being used,” Vifilli commented.

“That's because it isn’t.” Shining explained. “His father, Sombra did it to him for several reasons, but just so you know he did it before the Crystal Empire vanished.”

The priest raised an eyebrow. “Ah… So the colt has more in common with us than I thoug-”

“Aren’t we getting off-topic?” Twilight interrupted.

“Right.” Shining nodded. “Point is to be more careful around him is all.” He turned to his sister. “And giving Inverno the talk should be reserved to when he’s old enough.”





Vifilli couldn’t sleep. Although most of the other composers have gone to bed at this point, thoughts about what had happened were still possessing him to be kept awake. No matter how much he tried to get comfortable in the gentle rocking of the train, or try to ignore the snores from Schubit, he could not simply fall asleep.

Eventually, he got up and gently walked over to the observation deck. With only the light of the moon to illuminate the darkness of the passing forest in a dark blue light, the priest sat down on a cushion. In contemplation, he looked above the sifting dark pines towards the stars that loomed over. Closing his eyes, he held his forehooves together towards his forehead before he began to pray. Gently and softly speaking above a whisper as to not to awake the others.

“Oh Devine Celestia, Bringer of Dawn and Life, watch over us this night as we sleep and to bring about your golden orb at dawn. Bring peace to our troubled thoughts and guide our worries towards happiness. Do not let your eye of light be blinded to our plight of being lost to time. Assist us with your truth to soothe the woes that plague us. Shine your light upon the wicked (Paganeighni comes to mind) and be patient with them to open their eyes. Comfort the suffering that is in your care to console them that their pain shall not be forever. Give the weary rest so that we shall see a new dawn. Amen.”

Opening his eyes again, once again, nothing seemed to change before he closed his eyes. His gaze returning to the twinkling lights in silence, until he heard hoofsteps coming from behind.

“You can’t sleep either?” It was Buch.

The priest shook his head. “This day has given me much to consider. These strange powers, all of you, and the colt.”

“You mean Inverno?”

He nodded. “On top of finding out that he was castrated for the sake of music, he’s also like us too. That he is displaced out of time.”

“Oh? In what way?”

“You know of the legend of the Crystal Empire? Not only it’s actually true, but I found out that the child is the son of Sombra. I assume that that would make him the oldest out of all of us.”

“Oh good, I was beginning to think that I’m more ancient than I’m already am.” He chuckled. “But back to what I was going to ask, what were you doing?”

“Praying.” The red stallion replied. “Something that I should probably do more of in this strange world.”

“I don’t blame you.” Buch sat down next to him. “When I woke up in the city of Vanhoofer, I was confused, scared even of being in a place that I’m unfamiliar with. New cities, new ponies with new ideas. Being out on the street, I felt so paralyzed that I prayed until I fell asleep.”

“At least they were answered. I mean, look where we are.”

Buch shook his head. “I didn’t pray for food or shelter. At first, I prayed for having my family be safe. I was supporting a large family when I was dying; when I awoke, my thought wasn’t concerned if I was remembered or that I was taken care for. Rather, I wanted my family to be safe. I stopped when I realized that I’m in another century.”

Vifilli nodded. “Are you haunted by them still?”

The green stallion thought it over for a moment, looking at the moon. “In my lifetime, I had sired twenty children, seven of which survived and had two wives with the first passing away. I am indeed haunted. My parents had passed away by the time I was ten years old. My brothers and sisters were sent to the grave, along with the fellow musicians that I had worked with. No matter how much it happens or to who, it’s still sad to face that the one you’ve gotten to know, even loved, dies. Now that everyone I ever know has passed on except for me, it’s been quite lonely as of late.

“With that Inverno, however, it’s strange to say that I’ve only known him for about a day, but in a strange way, he reminds me of my children.”

“How so?”

“Well, my sons, they too have an interest in music, like him. They even want to compose, just like him. From what I’ve seen from his playing, his composition and a little bit of singing – I see within him the same potential of great talent to be cultivated.”

“That I must agree.” The priest nodded. “He is enthusiastic about learning from all of us. So much so that he used some sort of magic to bring us all back. Although what he see’s in Paganeighni, I’ll never know. But I suppose that he reminds me of my students.”

“Yes, I recall you mentioning teaching orphans.”

“To me, it’s clear that he has talent also. But for me, I see him as a potential student if he wants to learn further on singing or picking up a string instrument. Maybe if we stop somewhere and get a violin, I could teach him how to play if he wants.”

“I see.” Buch nodded. Thinking for a moment before asking, “What about you? What are you haunted by?”

Vifilli scratched the back of his head. “If I’m being honest. There is somepony that I do miss. I had a father that passed away when I was alive. He taught me the violin and showed me how to be a natural showpony. Even after I joined the priesthood, he promoted us far and wide as virtuoso violinists. I wouldn’t be a composer without him, especially when it also benefited the orphans that they play and sang what I wrote.”

“Was he ever good to you?”

He shrugged. “I suppose. He did all he could for me up until he died. He took care of the financial issues, and at one point we were successful enough to have a piezo on the grand canal. But after he passed away... things started to fall apart. He kept me stable and once I didn’t have that... well, I ended up in poverty.”

The two composers paused, looking up at the stars and the passing trees.

“Perhaps it’s divine providence that we’ve been given a second chance,” Buch said. “To do what, I don’t know. But perhaps now all of us have been given a clean slate where we could shape our lives into something more fulfilling. The child has given us that opportunity, so perhaps we shouldn’t waste time and use it to leave a legacy behind that would extend beyond our work.” Getting up, Buch told him that he was going to bed.

Vifilli told him that he would do the same but spent a long time in thought looking at the stars before feeling the least bit tired. Before he went to bed, he looked up at the moon, uttering a promise. “I won’t fail you again, father.”
> 24: Swan Song in d# Minor
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

It took many hours of searching, even a good deal of deductive reasoning on Dr. Assurance’s part, but he did have a very good educated guess where Tchaicoltsky had fled off to. Although his mind was swarming with a hive of questions, the test he conducted proved to him that somehow, in some way, the patient he was caring for had the old composer’s mind, memories, and personality. And if that were the case, he feared that unless he doesn’t find him soon, history might repeat itself.

The sun had long set. The therapist had picked up a tip from the homeless shelter that the last time they saw him, he was heading towards a construction site for a skyscraper. Despite having to trespass and galloping up the stairs towards the upper floors, he hoped desperately that he would find him in time. 

Fortunately, the sounds of sobbing lead him to him. Almost towards the newly built top floor, to a view of the sparkling cityscape of twinkling lights, he found the Changeling, his disguise completely dropped and, most concerningly, he was sitting on the edge of a twenty-four-story drop. 

‘Oh Goddesses!’ was the very first thought that the therapist had when he saw him, ‘He’s going to do it! History is going to repeat itself!’ He rushed and yelled out. “MR. TCHAICOLTSKY! STOP!” 

The Changeling flung his head around, tears still streaming down yelled back. “D-Don’t come any closer! I-I’ll jump!” Assurance did, still too far away. “Just… Just go away…” He turned his attention back to the ground. “Leave me alone…”

But with a newfound determination, Assurance stomped his hoof. “No! I’m not leaving. Not when you need it most.”

Tchaicoltsky folded his ears back flat against his head.

“I know you don’t want to hear to me, and seeing how much in pain you’re in, I want to at least listen to you before you do anything rash.” There was a pause. “This past couple of days you’ve trusted me enough to hear what you have to say without judgment. What I saw and heard in your mind; I know that you were telling the truth about yourself.”

“I…” Tchaicoltsky sniffed. “I didn’t want you to see me like this…”

“Why not?”

“Look at me!” he returned his teary gaze at the therapist. “I’ve turned into a monster. I’m no longer a pony anymore. I'm now this… thing. Then to add more salt on the wound…” The changeling closed his eyes, in which more tears flowed. “I-I betrayed you.”

Assurance tilted his head. “I don’t understand.”

“Y-You never will…” he sobbed.

“Then make me. Try to explain it to me, like how a foal would.”

Several moments later, the Changeling said: “You… You’re the only friend I have in this world… Who’s ever been this kind, this understanding to me… Offered friendship so willingly, and trusted in my secrets that…” He sniffed, “I know we’ve met. And I know you’re married. But… When you’ve gone through your whole life pretending to be something you’re not. When you wrote music that brought audiences to tears and ruptures of joy in the same evening, only to be forgotten. When you… lost your youth and even your Equinity to be reborn into a monstrosity. When you lost your wealth and end up homeless in a distant land and time… When you showed me a generosity beyond description I… I want you. Goddesses help me, I want you! I know it’s wrong. Especially when you have a wife that does love you as you do for her. I know I can’t have you, but…” He hunched over; hooves buried into his face. “It’s… It’s not fair!”

As Tchaicoltsky cried, Dr. Assurance walked over to him as quietly as he could. Then carefully, he sat next to him on the ledge. “Mr. Tchaicoltsky,” he said gently, “before you do anything. I was hoping that maybe I could at least thank you.”

He sniffed. “F-For what?”

“Saving my life.”

The Changeling looked up at him, “What?”

“You know," Assurance began, "I don't tell this often because of how personal this is. But now I know who you are - I think you deserve to hear this.

"Once upon a time, in a small town far up north, I was genuinely depressed. When I reached my teens, it was clear that I have a talent for listening to others and their problems and giving them the advice they needed. But even so, I didn’t have much of a voice at all. Most of my life was spent being told what to do and running errands for ponies. As reliable as I was, nopony wanted to hear what I thought about certain things. If anything, I was discouraged from showing or expressing anything that wasn't calm, happy, or thoughtful. My parents especially scolded me if I showed any signs of negative feelings like sadness, anger, or being irrational. As a result, I had no opinions on anything. Because if I did, I’d lose friends and the respect of my family. Despite being good at listening, nopony it seems would want to listen to me. 'And why would they?' I thought, 'Compared to what others have told, mine is nothing serious.'

“Before I graduated high school… I seriously considered suicide. Because at the time, I honestly thought that if I just left this world forever, it wouldn’t make much of a difference. Even if ponies did grieve over me, they’ll just get over it eventually and forget I existed. However, my grandparents dragged me to a classical concert, on the same day that I planned to end it all. As it so happened, what the orchestra was playing that night was something of yours. Your sixth symphony.”

Tchaicoltsky whipped the tears away. “The Pathetique? How in the world did that prevent you from ending yourself? That piece was the most miserable thing I’ve ever written! Even the orchestra that first performed it hated it, I should know, I was there.”

“Because at the time, I didn’t think too highly of classical music. I thought it was nothing more than music for old, out-of-touch ponies. However, as soon as it started… something about it clicked in me. Even now it’s still hard to describe it, but it’s as if… somehow you knew what I was going through. I know it doesn't make any sense but... The sound I heard wasn’t what I call comforting. Rather, it was more like a friend that sat you down to say that, ‘Hey, I know what it’s like to be ignored and not being able to be yourself. Trust me, I’ve been there.’ I remember that in the final movement, while the orchestra was getting evermore quiet... I was crying. Not out of sadness but finding catharsis. Truthfully, apart from the Nutcracker and a few other pieces, I didn’t know you wrote something so… personal.”

“I still don’t understand what the motivation to not commit suicide was.”

“I’m getting to that. You see, after the performance, I honestly wanted to know what you wrote after that. I was truly blown away by it. However, when I was told that a few days after you premiered that symphony you… you know… It hit me with an epiphany. I spent days reflecting on what I’ve heard and my life. Just because I’ve been ignored, doesn’t mean that I can’t contribute something. I wanted to do essentially what your music did. So, I trained years to become a psychological therapist to be that voice that others need to hear, as well as an ear to be listened to. In a way, without you ever knowing, you saved me. Your art held me back and let me focus on what’s really important.”

“Alright, that is all fine and good. But what about things? Like… oh, I don’t know,” he waved a hoof at himself.

“Okay, I admit that I was taken aback and was confused. I mean, it wasn’t too long-ago Changelings had invaded Canterlot. For a while, I was wondering if you’re a spy. However, that test we did disproves that. You showed me the truth in what your mind has to say. That spell I used is sometimes, under the most extreme of circumstance, used as the ultimate lie detector where one could step inside somepony’s mind and they’d know the truth about them. Now, why you’re a Changeling, and how you came back? I don’t know. However, to the form you give yourself, I take it that was how you used to look?”

Tchaicoltsky nodded. A flash of green fire circled him and out came the Pegasus. “I used to look like this in my youth. Long before I turned into an old gray stallion.”

“I see.” Assurance nodded. “You know, given the climate of things, although it’s not safe to be a Changeling in front of most, I think you can still drop the disguise around me.”

The Changeling looked at him. “Doctor, why are you still here? I… I thought that after you know what I… think about you… you wouldn’t-”

“Pyotr, it’s fine, and I get it. Truthfully, this isn’t the first time this has happened to me, and I don’t consider it the last given the profession I’m in. If anything, when I was being taught how to do this, I was told that more than likely ponies will develop feelings for me because I’d listen to them more than their partners would. It’s pretty much expected to happen at least once. But in your case, and given the circumstance… I would be lying to say that I’m not a little bit flattered by it.”

This surprised Tchaicoltsky, “But you’re not… are you?”

The therapist shook his head. “No. Personally, I don’t swing that way, but it is something to find out that a historical figure happens to have a crush on you.”

“Even so, as much as I want to… maybe… hold your hoof at least, I still can’t.”

“Why not?”

He sighed. “Where I come from, such an open display of affection is considered not just taboo, but against nature. I had known stallions who were publicly shamed, their property snatched up and banished to Saddleberia, never to be seen again. If the public knew then… I was finished. There were a few close encounters but if I was caught, I’d be forever shamed as a pervert.”

“But didn’t I tell you that Equestria-”

“I’ve already heard of the praises of your tolerant nation!” Tchaicoltsky snapped at him, “But it still doesn’t help that I can’t help but see ghosts everywhere. What if I spoke my secret aloud to the wrong pony and be killed for it? That alone is the price of my safety.” 

Dr. Assurance tapped his chin. “You know, I can’t pretend to know what it must have been like where you're from. Even now, not every place in the world has learned what most of us have, in that when you boil it all down, love is still love, as cliché as that sounds. Those ghosts, those influences that drove you into the closet, they’re not here. Nopony can hurt you now. Nor are they ever going to on the basis of who you happen to feel an attraction towards.”

“That still doesn’t help when I’m still alone. Nevermind you never return such feelings back. But since I’ve realized that I have been gone for so many years, all the fame I built up in a lifetime is gone. I doubt that anyone, especially in Equestria, would even know who I was or the music that I have worked so hard on.”

“But I do.”

“Oh sure,” he rolled his eyes, “you do but what about everypony else? Do any of them know of the symphonies? The concertos? Ballets? Piano pieces, or anything for that matter? I couldn’t help but notice how much music has changed just by walking down a street. And I must tell you, nothing out there bares anything that I recognize as music. If at all! So what fleeting chance that I still would be remembered?” The therapist didn’t respond, but instead, he lit up his horn and pulled out a pair of tickets, and hovered over to him. “What’s this?”

“Proof. Given that I know exactly who you are, I thought you might take an interest in this.”

The Changeling took hold of the tickets, and raised an eyebrow, “They’re still performing Sawn Lake?”

“This one has a twist. It had caused controversy years ago, but now it’s considered just one of many acceptable adaptations to the ballet. If you’re not interested in flinging yourself off, I was hoping that maybe we could go see it.” He offered his hoof, “Consider this, Mr. Tchaicoltsky, as a date of sorts.”

He blinked. “But I thought you just said-”

“I’m not, but at the same time, I don’t want you to be miserable either. When I say that I'm concerned about your well-being, I meant it. Not because you’re a historical figure, and not out of pity. But as a way of thanking you for what your art has done for me. And I want to give that back that same compassion, that same understanding, and that same reassurance that I’m not alone.” After a pause, he added, “Your story may not have been happy from the start. But if you let me, I could give you the direction so that you can have that happily ever after. And I genuinely want to help you with whatever means possible. You could sense that from me, can’t you?”

Tchaicoltsky could. There wasn’t a word of what he said that gave him the impression that he was lying. There wasn’t an emotion that he felt during the conversation that felt fake to him. And above all, there was love coming from the doctor, maybe not the romantic love that he’d hoped for, but a charitable sort of love. He looked at the outstretched hoof. “Uh… m-may I?”

Nodding, Assurance held his hoof out further. For a long moment, Tchaicoltsky hesitated, as part of him still thinks that maybe this is all a trick. However, with the feelings being given off from his friend, there wasn’t a thing he should be afraid about. Not to mention that warm smile, like a flame among a bitter blizzard, was offered up to him. So, he raised a shaken hoof, even inches away, he nearly came close to withdrawing it for good. But even on the edge of the black abyss, he reached out and took hold of that hoof.

The Doctor sighed in relief. “Good… Good… Now come on, let’s get away from the edge. Okay?”

Nodding, the Changeling nodded, and inside him, as he was gently being pulled back, he felt something overwhelming. Not crippling depression, nor the joy of love being recuperated, but something more profound. It crept out from him and magic reverberated on the sketchy floor of the building. The two of them stopped as music poured out from the Changeling where the empty floor of plywood and steel beams were changed before their eyes.



At the sound of a slow violin, the floor was replaced by a title marble of black and white. It then stretched to where the walls were built up of amber wood, tall windows with moonlight, and gentle lit candles that reflected from mirrors. Even above them, among the ornate gold leaf and paintings of Pegasi was a crystal chandelier that flickered in candlelight. 

Assurance looked at him, astonished. “Is this your doing?”

“Oddly… I think it might be.” He said, “I’ve noticed if I feel something strongly enough, this happens.”

“Oh?” The therapist tilted his head, “And what do you feel now?”

A blush came across the Changeling’s face. “If it doesn’t seem improper, and not that you have to, but…” He held out a hoof, “Could I dance with you, sir?”

The unicorn therapist blinked, “I… I haven’t danced in years.”

“I won’t make it complicated just… please… may I have this moment, with you?”

He took in a deep breath, “We’ll talk about this magic thing later. But for now,” he stood on his hind legs, and Tchaicoltsky taking ahold of his forelegs in taking the lead. The two waltzed as a violin counted the steps, letting the illusion take hold of the waltz as the Changeling cried happily, even after the music and the exitance of the ballroom, ended.
> 25: Coneigh Island Db Major
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Horseshoepin was in a full gallop with a flyer in his mouth. He was racing at full speed to the Blue Sun Bar and Grill, crossing busy roads, dodging commuters and tourists, and zipping by street corner vendors. There wasn’t any time for those that were glaring at him or were nearly knocked over. What he had was too important to stop. 

It didn’t matter if Liszt was in the middle of his lunch shift, what he found is their ticket back to recognition. In fact, when Fryderyk arrived at the restaurant and spotted his friend at the piano, he went over to pull Liszt off away from the piano stool by the collar. 

“What are you doing?!” Liszt demanded as he was being dragged away.

“Come here,” Horseshoepin said through his teeth, carrying him out of sight of the customers. “I have something I need to show you.”

“Can it wait? I’m working.”

Pulling him around a corner Horseshoepin let go of him. “Listen to me. I found something that can put us back on the map.” 

“What are you talking about?”

“This,” Fryderyk showed him the flyer. 

Liszt looked between it and his friend. “A piano competition?”

“With a half of a million bits for the first prize!” He said, “That should be more than enough for us to find a better place to live and show off our talents as musicians again.”

“Alright, but how would that help us?”

“Think about it. With a prize worth that much, one would think there would be plenty of ponies there. If we pulled this off, we could get attention again and we would be recognized for our talents. Back in my day, these competitions are usually full of conductors for orchestras and music halls that are on the lookout for the next new star.”

“So what you’re saying is that if we go to this competition and play our music there, we would easily win first prize and be catapulted back to fame again?”

Horseshoepin nodded, “It’s foolproof! We cannot lose!” He grinned.

“And when and where is this competition held?”

Looking back at the flyer’s finer details, Fryderyk replied, “At a place called Coneigh Island. And it’s being held this afternoon. That’s why I was in a hurry to get over here.”

“Wait a minute,” Liszt took a step back. “You do realize what you’re saying, right? That we should quit our jobs here – something we might not easily get again – to take part in a competition that we don’t know for certain if we’ll actually win this. Call me crazy, but this sounds like quite the gamble, don’t you think?”

“I know. But do you honestly want to spend the rest of your life doing this?” He gestured over to the restaurant. “C’mon Franz, I know you. The stallion I befriended wouldn’t hesitate to a challenge to show off his skills. I mean, don’t you miss your audience? Don’t you miss having mares fling themselves at you when you’re on stage? Well, this is your chance! This is your and my way of reminding the world that we’re still here.”

Franz hummed in thought. On the one hoof, there was a part of him that missed the days of the music hall where he wowed audiences by doing difficult, seemingly impossible piano tricks. While the restaurant did have its quirks with being intimate with a small audience, it was not the same as the thrill of having hundreds, maybe thousands of mares screaming one's name. He knew of course that being hundreds of years may have changed the audience… 

Then again, when he had been playing his pieces over the last few days, he had been pleasantly surprised by how many ponies recognize his tune…

“I’ll do it,” Franz said but added with a raised hoof, “but on one condition.”

“Yes?”

“You’ll have to enter into it too.”

Fryderyk’s eyes went wide. “Excuse me?”

“Hey, I know you don’t like performing in front of crowds that much. But then again, ponies do recognize your nocturnes, so if we entered, there’s also a chance of you winning as well. Besides, it would increase our chances a little if both of us wins instead of relying on one to succeed.”

“Well…” Horseshoepin frowned but looked down at the flier in thought. “I suppose…”

“Great!” Liszt patted him on the back, “It’ll be good for you to get up to a real audience. Now… how do we get to Coneigh Island from here?”





“You know I can’t believe I haven’t thought of this sooner.” Shining said, “Where did you get the idea, Professor?”

“Buch gave me the idea.” Professor Key replied, watching the tent being set up by the guards. 

Even before they set hoof in Manehattan, the professor had pondered how to find two magic-prone composers in a city with a population of roughly eight million. Yet, recalling Buch’s story, he realized that the two composers – whoever they were – might be in the same situation as he was. More than likely require money and a job, and a piano contest was just the thing to lure them in. So as soon as the train entered the city, the professor immediately printed and set up fliers around city blocks. After that, they rented space on Coneigh Island with a rented piano.

On short notice, they got ahold of an upright piano. So when the tent was set up, someone had to push it in. And Shining got Paganeighni and Vifilli to carry it.

“C’mon! They might be here any minute!” Shining called out to the two heaving and struggling composers.

“How’d you know…” Paganeighni asked between breaths as they inched the heavy instrument towards the tent. “…. They don’t… play the violin?”

“Because most of you do.” Professor Key said, “So more than likely, whoever is here might know how to play the piano.”

“Thank Celestia they don’t play the organ then,” Vifilli sarcastically remarked, after they pushed the instrument further inside and onto a small platform. “So, remind me again why we have to do this?”

“Partly for probation,” Shining answered, “so consider this as taking your first baby steps for nearly destroying Ponyville.”

Setting the upright piano on the stage, Paganeighni pointed said, “Hey wait, what about that Schubit fellow? Didn’t he do something worse than us? So why isn’t he moving this?”

“Oh, we don’t have to worry about that,” Shining smirked, “Inverno is carrying out his punishment right now.”





Meanwhile…

“I want off of this thing!” Schubit frantically tried to push the bar up that was pinning him to his seat. He was uncomfortably high in the air, trapped in an open-aired carriage on iron rails that clacked underneath him, all head up by wooden scaffolding, being pulled almost straight up towards the top where he can see the entirety of the island, the city of Manehattan, and beyond. Below him, the rail tracks curved and looped at outrageous angles that were too tight for anything rolling down without falling off it. He dreaded the maddening trails that ducked through the towering arch, with beams so low that it could decapitate someone at with speeds of a falling guillotine. 

“Oh, don’t be such a wet blanket!” Worst yet, sitting and being pinned right next to him was Moztrot. Who not only wasn’t fazed of what was about to happen, but the madpony was excited about it. “This will be like sliding down a hill. Only that there’s no snow, the hill is actually a mountain of wooden scaffolding, and we’ll be speeding down on two thin iron rails that we could fall off at any time! This is gonna be so fun!”

“I imagine that this would be like flying,” Buch added. He was just behind them, and they were at the very front of a row of rail carriages that was climbing towards the top. Inverno sat next to Buch who, give the large Pegasus’s size, gave the colt all the security he needed from falling out. “Or maybe like rolling down a hill in a fruit cart, as I did as a child. Ah, those were the good old days.”

“Well, I have never been on any ride like this,” Inverno said, looking over to the side. “We’re up so high now. I bet we’re gonna go really fast. Oh, I can’t wait for my first roller-coaster ride!”

“I don’t want this to be my first!” Schubit yelled, still struggling to get himself freed. “In fact, I don’t want to be on this thing at all.”

“Too late for that!” Moztrot said as they reached the very top. They looked downward at the confusing tangles of lines below. “Everyone hang on to something!”

Schubit didn’t know why everyone else behind him was cheering when they were slowly being pushed over the ledge. All he did know was that they’re about to fall straight down. All he could do was grab onto the fixed bar for dear life and screamed at the top of his lungs when they made their descent.





Maneler lifted the flap of the tent, overseeing the guards setting up the chairs, the piano on a tiny stage, and spotted Shining and the professor by a table. He walked up to them saying, “So I got word that the guards had spread the fliers out. But I have to ask what you are trying to accomplish with all of this?” He waved a hoof around the tent, “I must say that even for a music competition, I’m not that impressed.”

“Simply put,” Professor Key explained, “it’s a way to hopefully attract whoever is here with the promise of a large cash prize. So if this works, it would help us identify our mystery composers.”

“But that is the part of the plan I don’t understand. How exactly would you identify them? One would think that any talented piano prodigy would come here.”

“Maybe so,” the Professor grinned, “but I would a test for them. If they play anything from the missing composers, I will simply ask them to use that same piece and have them make it completely different.”

“As in improvising?” Maneler blinked. “How would that help identify anyone?”

“Because four of the six remaining composers – Beethooven, Horseshoepin, Liszt, and Debussy were known to improvise. If I asked any of them to take their piece and make it original – they should be able to do it. And if during it that it triggers in them their magic, well it would be a dead giveaway, would it.”

“I… see…” the deer frowned, “But suppose if that does happen. That during their performance it caused them to cast a weird spell – or maybe they might try to run – what then?”

He then heard someone clearing their throat, Maneler looked over to see Twilight sitting there. “That is where I come in. If either of those happens, I will immediately spring into action. I know at least fourteen different spells to contain whoever it is alone.”

“Well,” Maneler blinked, “I’m glad all of you have a system in place.”

Shining looked up, “Why?”

“Because already there’s a crowd out there wandering around looking for a sign-up sheet.”

“Already?” Professor Key got up and followed Maneler over to the entrance. There, the deer parted it open to show him a group of sixty ponies huddled around with one of them asking if this is where the competition is to be held. 

“So, shall we start our search?” Maneler inquired.





It took hours for Liszt and Horseshoepin to get to Coneigh Island. Trying to navigate from the city to the park had proved to be a difficult chore as they had to spend much of their bits from the taxi that drove them there. But when they finally arrived, they were dropped off by the gates near a sandy beach that looked out to the sea. Before them was the amusement park where the air smelled of popcorn and sea salt. It was a place of bright colors and painted exaggerated faces of clowns dressed up in fantastical lights. There were screams of thrill-seekers from towering roller coasters, and lovers riding a fairs wheel. They passed by small rides and carnival games that called out to them to play. There were stands of popcorn and cotton candy, ice cream, and cotton candy on a stick.

“It almost reminds me of the fairs from the old country,” Franz remarked, passing by a booth of ring toss. “Only I have never seen this many games around.”

“I never went to any of them.”

Franz raised an eyebrow. “You never been to a place like this?”

“Couldn’t afford to go to one,” Frydrych answered, eyeing a funhouse with warped mirrors. “Growing up, my family had encouraged me to perfect my technique at the piano. I know I would have gotten into trouble if I ran off to a place like this instead of practicing.”

Liszt shook his head, “But surely, even as a foal, you have been tempted to have some time off and be merry. Not even for amusements such as this?”

“It wasn’t that I didn’t have the chance…”

“Then Frydrych, you must beware of missing chances; otherwise, it may be altogether too late some day. Look at us now. Look at our lives. We have spent so much time working that we forgot how to live.”

“But we can’t just seek pleasurable things forever. Eventually, we’ll have to pay for such things in the end.”

“Of course,” Franz nodded, “but I say that taking a break and enjoy the small amusements makes a world of difference between making life a pleasure or a burden.”

Horseshoepin sighed, “It’s not that I disagree with you, but we would need security first. After we enter the composition, maybe then we could finally relax.”

Liszt agreed.

While they continued to look for the competition, they spotted a group of ponies near the line of a roller coaster. A chubby unicorn had his head in a trash can, retching into it while a large Green Pegasus patted him on the back. Nearby, two pale ponies were chatting away excitedly from the ride they’ve experienced. At first, neither Liszt nor Horseshoepin paid any attention to them as they walked on by. However, when Frydrych looked over to the group again, he paused, but only for a moment before continuing.

Franz noticed this, “Something the matter?”

“No, it’s just…” He looked over his shoulder again.

“What?” Franz looked behind him to see what his friend had spotted but didn’t see anything.

“For a split moment, I could have sworn that I saw a familiar face.”

“Where?”

“Doesn’t matter, it’s just a trick of the mind or something.”

“Why? Who did you think you saw?”

“Well, I could have sworn for a moment that I saw someone that resembled Buch and Moztrot. But maybe I was mistaken.”

Liszt looked over his shoulder again but didn’t spot the ponies his friend talked about. Although they did continue on to find the competition, a thought came to him. “Frydrych, do you suppose… No, it’s impossible.”

“What?”

“Just had this… peculiar idea that maybe… we’re not alone.”

“Huh?” Frydrych stopped, “What do you mean?”

“Has it ever occurred to you how strange this is? I mean, being displaced hundreds of years in a country neither of us has been to before.”

“Alright, but why are you bringing this up now? I thought we already talked about the possibilities of how we-”

“Yes, yes, yes, I know that! But maybe we’re asking the wrong questions?”

“Huh?” Frydrych tilted his head, “What are you talking about?”

“Well, maybe the question isn’t how we got here – perhaps the real question is this: are we the only ones to experience this? We know that the last thing we remember before waking up on that train is we were dying. Besides, we know for a fact this isn’t the afterlife. So… Is it just us, or are there others that have been given the same treatment?”

Horseshoepin blinked, “Normally I would say that is just mad ramblings but-”

“But?”

He looked over again, the group of ponies that he had seen had disappeared. “I confess I hesitate to say that it isn’t possible.”

“Yes, for all we know that might not be the case… but who knows? Maybe you did see Buch and Moztrot.”

Frydrych said that they should keep looking.

After wandering around, the familiar sound of a piano leads them to the music competition. At first, they were confused that it was taken place inside a tent, where the only sign to let anyone know that this was the place was from the chalkboard that pointed inside. Still, peeking through the flaps of the tent they saw that it wasn’t by any means empty. It was crowded by nervous ponies, all watching someone on a tinny stage playing away at an upright piano. 

Normally, the sight of this would give the two hope that they can still win this – if it wasn’t for two big factors. For one, near the stage were three judges at a table with boredom on their faces. The second and even more concerning was the fact that the pianist on stage was already playing something from Liszt. It was his more difficult and theatrical pieces – his La Campanella. For Franz, what made him concerned wasn’t the fact that someone else is playing his music, but that his crowd-pleaser wasn’t impressing the judges one bit! And it wasn’t the fact that the pianist performing this was doing it badly, it was that despite hitting every right note that it still wasn’t going well. 

When they entered the tent, the pianist was wrapping up the final few bars. Despite the performance receiving a modest applause, all of them turned to those three judges. The poor pianist turned to them. “Well?” He asked, “How did I do?”

“It’s… good.” One of the judges said a deer that adjusted his glasses.

“So, was something wrong with it?”

“Not exactly to my ears,” the second judge, a white unicorn with a blue mane replied, “we’re just not sure if you’re what we’re looking for.”

“No?” The pianist blinked, “Do you want me to do something else or…?”

“Can you improvise?” The third and oldest of the judges inquired. “On that same piece, can you come up with anything original?”

“Uh…” The pianist tensed, clearly showing that he doesn’t know-how.

“Welp,” the second judge pulled his mane back, “thank you for that. But let’s see what else these guys can do.”

Liszt and Horseshoepin winced at that. Despite how polite that was, that remark hurt. They saw it on the pianist’s face who looked dejected for paying his heart out. They looked at one another, wondering if coming here was a good idea at all.

Before they could turn around, walk out, and discuss what they should do now, they heard from the first judge – “You two! Are you here for the music competition?”

Everyone turned their heads. Whatever doubts they had, it was too late to back away now. 

“Uh, y-yes!” Franz smiled nervously, “We were wondering if we came to the right place. We’re here to compete, you see.”

The third judge waved to them to come closer. With a gulp from Frydrych, they slowly navigated their way towards the very front. Franz whispered to him, “Listen, I’ll go first.”

“Oh, please do,” Frydrych whispered back, “you’re better with crowds than I am. Especially ones that are staring at us.”

Taking in a deep breath, Franz got up on the tiny stage. 

“I assume you didn’t sign up on the competitor’s signing sheet?” Professor Key asked and Franz shook his head. “Well, what is your name then?”

“My name? It’s uh…” Franz’s eyes shifted to come up with a name. Then he remembered a name he used to call himself. “Abbé. Yep! That’s my name, Abbé List.”

He wasn’t sure why all three judges suddenly looked up at him. Was it something he said?

“List?” Maneler asked and Franz nodded. “Alright, so what are you going to play?”

“Well…” He looked between the upright piano and the judges. “I was thinking of a Rhapsody. One of Franz Liszt’s.”

“Let me guess,” Professor Key propped his head on a hoof. “Hungary Rhapsody number two?” 

“Uh…”

“Could you improvise something based on that?” Shining asked.

“Well of course! I’ll do that right now!” Liszt said, sitting down at the piano keys. “Just… give me a moment…” He closed his eyes tightly. 

Letting out a breath, he focused on his memories of his, of his foalhood home in Hungry. A memory so precious, that it helped to shape his life.

He couldn’t have been more than six or seven years old on that summer night. At the time, he was sent to his room as punishment – for what, he cannot recall. But all he could remember was that he was upset and sulked at his open window. Perhaps he thought about running away, but as his room was on the second floor with no way to climb down safely, all he could do was pout. 

  Yet, downstairs he heard his father playing on the fortepiano. One of Beethooven’s sonata’s that his father had stopped and started because he kept hitting the wrong notes. In his ears, it wasn’t that good – if anything, he had heard someone play it better. His father after all was just an armature musician, it was a hobby he picked up aside from his job as an accountant. Maybe that was why he was sent to his room because he could show up to his father that he could play better than he. Perhaps he would still play it if he didn’t interrupt and say that it should all be in tempo.

  But that night, Franz heard another sound. Through the window of their humble cottage, just over where the trees were, he could see it. The shadows of the wagon train and tents, with the fires that illuminated them. In the flickering lights, he saw them dancing. The gypsies. He can hear the laughter and the ancient melodies and wild rhythms of their violins and tambourines. On some level, he envied them. They don’t have to take boring lessons at a keyboard where they have to play exercise over and over and over and over again. They don’t have to play the easy songs that Franz could learn in a matter of minutes. No, they simply pick up an instrument and play what’s in their souls. Sure, the music can be nonsensical, but to his ears, it was new, it was fun, it was exciting. 

  But under the full moon, Franz heard them both – his father’s playing and the gypsies celebrating. Together with the strict structure of the piano with the lively passion of the violins, it was like he was listening to a new concerto. His coltish imagination wondered what would happen if he put those two together. 

Opening up his eyes at the keyboard he lifted his hooves, just lightly touching the keys. Of course, he could easily play one of his rhapsodies. He knew everyone by heart. But at that moment, perhaps he would need a different approach. If he needed to show what he could do, maybe it was best to illustrate his roots. 



At first, he played the first few bars of his rhapsody. A fanfare of something dark and mysterious like the night. He played it proudly, letting the strings in the piano ring out like a bell. But, when his hoof repeated the theme to the higher notes, he slowed down, letting them echo like he was holding that moment still for a moment. For the first time since he had awoken in this strange new world, he felt that spark of inspiration. The memory, the carnival, and the piano. Yes, he may have started with a piece everyone knew him for – now he wondered what would happen if he took it in a new direction.

He let his imagination go back to his foalhood days, repeating two notes on the keys, forming a kind of rhythm that got the judges’ attention. Franz felt an electrical feeling in his hooves that tingled and sparked like he was casting a spell from his hooves. He didn’t know what was happening or who was suddenly playing the cello, but it fits perfectly with what he had in mind. He saw all around him the tent grew dimmer with shining yellow stars coming out. He saw dark trees rapidly sprouting out. There was a commotion behind him. Looking over his shoulder, he saw the rows of chairs had given way to gypsy caravans and tents. Yet, all around they were brightly colored like the park was, complete with carnival games. 

Among the confused contestants, there were other ponies there. Made out of paper and drawn crudely in crayon, it depicted ponies in hats and vests, holding up violins and tambourines. They moved and flopped around like paper, yet they danced as happy as the smile drawn on their faces. It was as if his colthood memory and fantasy had materialized. 

Yet, among the confusion, Twilight immediately sprang into action. She teleported out from the scattered contestants and onto the stage. 

“Hold it right there!” Twilight cast a spell around Franz, encompassing him in a bubble. “You need to stop.”

Franz raised an eyebrow and continued playing, “Stop what?”

“You’re casting a reality-altering spell, and you need to stop it right now.”

“Assuming that I’m doing this on purpose, and even if I am, why would I stop? No one is objecting, are they?”

Indeed, no one was. If anything, the contestants were starting to fall under the spell – or thinking that all of this is somehow part of the performance. Perhaps it was something in the air that was so intoxicatingly joyous because some of them were starting to join in dancing with the paper gypsies.

“So if you don’t mind, miss,” Franz said, shifting his attention towards the keyboard, “I have a competition to win!” In his fervor, he pressed down harder on the keys, and thin golden strings from the piano shot out. Piercing through the bubble and connected with the paper stars above them. The stars glowed brighter and brought some of them down over the contestants but kept it above their heads. Yet they were so close that many of them reached out and touched them.

Just when Twilight was about to cast another spell, the unexpected happened. The golden strings from the piano tightened up, the cheap wood from the instrument fell apart. The only thing left standing was a harp-like hunk of metal, exposing the hammers and keys that Liszt continued to play upon. Then the harp was stretched and pulled upwards before taking the hammers, keys, and Liszt on his piano bench.

‘Okay… that’s new.’ Twilight thought as she took flight after Liszt, who was not only still playing but is using the instrument as a swing. Flying back and forth among the paper stars. 

Liszt at this point looked like he was having the time of his life like a foal on a roller-coaster. Almost like an acrobat, he used his whole body to swing the instrument among the stars, twisting, leaning backward, playing with his hind hooves – all the while not missing a single note of his reimagined rhapsody. 

At first, Twilight tried to use her magic to disrupt the performance. She tried to cut the piano strings, but the ringing wires were curiously too strong. She tried to yank the pianist out of his seat, but he was seemed to be glued to his seat. Then as a last resort, she tried to catch the piano to slow it down – this failed tremendously too when she was whipped lashed around the tent. 

Meanwhile below, among the confusion of the contestants, Shining sprang into action. “Professor, get the guards to help you get these ponies out of here.” He then turned to the three other composers, “Tell me you three have something to disrupt this?”

Vifilli, Paganeighni, and Maneler looked at one another. “Wait, what do you want us to do about this?” Vifilli questioned.

“Remember back in Ponyville when you were disrupted when your magic was going? Well, right now I need one of you to do that.”

“To Liszt, are you crazy!?” Maneler objected, “I only wrote orchestral works. There’s nothing virtuosic that could counter that.”

“Wait, what did you say his name was?” Paganeighni asked.

“That up there,” he pointed to the pianist, “that is Franz Liszt.”

“Really?” the griffon smirked, “I think I know him. In fact…” He looked around, “Does anyone have a violin I can borrow?” He spotted one of the paper gypsies playing on a paper violin. So tapping it on the shoulder he said, “Mind if I have this?” And ripped it out of the gypsy.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Vifilli questioned.

Paganeighni spread a wicked grin, noticing the guards were escorting the other contestants out. “Something I know would get our friend’s attention.”

With the crowd now being cleared away, the griffon flew up to the stage, front and center, and looked up. “Non ci vediamo da molto tempo, signor Liszt!”

From above, Liszt looked down, confused, “What? And who might you be?”

“Oh Franz, I’m hurt,” Paganeighni said in a hurt tone, putting a claw over his heart, “Your biggest inspiration, and you’ve already forgotten me? Here,” he lifted the paper violin underneath his beak and raised the paper bow, “let me give you a hint.”



The moment the bow touched the strings, the music came to a sudden, abrupt stop. Even the paper gypsies stopped their dancing to look over to the violinist. The paper violin burst into flames, yet Paganeighni paid no mind to the flames in his face. With a demonic smile on his face, he began to play the piece that made him famous.

While the instrument burned and caught the griffon’s claws on fire, the tune that was heard was like a sea shanty at an impossible tempo. The wave-like rhythm ebbed back and forth along with the ember soundboard, yet the speed made it melt like molten lava. So convincing was this firry effect that Shining nearly called out for someone to put the griffon out. That is for the fact that instead of the violinist screaming in pain, he was enjoying it. 

As he developed his theme into variations, Paganeighni’s feathery body was caught on fire, yet as the flames burned, it didn’t take anything – but added dirty dark clothing from centuries ago, and even from his head, the fire grew a long black, shaggy, greasy mane while he practically danced about on the stage. The stage too caught fire, but instead of destroying, it was replacing everything. Soon, stage lights were being burned into existence. Even when the mad violinist hand spat out flammable notes around, the rest of the tent too caught fire, and reality itself was being replaced with something else. Even with the very ground being set alight, it sprang out a charcoal audience from the ashes of mares screaming in delight. In a moment those watching this quickly figured out that this reality was slowly being replaced with an opera house from Tartarus.

For Liszt, after the fire consumed the stranger, he nearly fell out of his seat. Even if he didn’t recognize the raggedy outfit, the greasy mane, or the fact that it was a griffon – the melody made it clear who it was. How could he not? The way the griffon moved when he played the violin, and the demonic sound that was coming out from the instrument. There was only one virtuoso he knew could do something like this. 

It was the same violinist that had changed his life.

“Are you…?” Liszt held onto the piano that was catching fire and turning into a chandelier, “Niccolò?! Niccolò Paganeighni? Is that you?”

“About time you recognized me!” The violinist called out, spreading his black wings, and flew up to meet him, no doubt sprinkling more flames to the rest of the tent. “You got a new face too I see!”

“I can’t believe you’re still alive!”

“Oh no, I was brought back, just like you, Signor.”

“W-What does that mean?”

“It’s a long story, but I’ll get to that later. How are you? Did your career finally take off since we last met?”

“I… Yes, it did.”

Paganeighni grinned, “Ah! Good to hear! And I’d bet you had plenty of mares chasing after your tail too, huh?”

“I- Woah!” Franz’s seat burned away, so he had to grab hold of the crystal chandelier. “Well, I mean I used to, but I’ve changed since we’ve last met.”

“Oh well, more for me I guess.” By now, sparks had caught the roof of the tent, it too transforming into a dome that upheld the chandelier. 

“You know as much as I love to chat,” Franz said, his hindlegs dangling, “But I’d really like it if I don’t fall.”

“I got it,” Twilight said, using her magic to catch Liszt in her aura. “Okay Mr. Paganeighni, you can stop now.”

“Now hang on,” the griffon objected, “I still want to catch up with him – I haven’t seen him in years.” He flew in closer to Franz, “So are you the only one here?”

“Well, no, I came here with an old friend. We saw the flyer and hoped to get some money from the piano competition.”

“Really?” Both Paganeighni and Twilight tilted their heads, “Who?”

“Horseshoepin, Frydrych Horseshoepin. I…” He looked down at the demonic crowd below. “I don’t know where he is, but he was with me a moment ago…”

“Maybe he was shooed out with the other contestants,” Twilight reasoned, “So he’s most likely still on the island.”

Paganeighni looked down at the audience below where were screaming in adoration, “You know what? Why not you two go out and find whoever it is, I’d like to stick around for a little while longer.” 

While Twilight flew out of the tent taking Liszt along with her, Paganeighni returned to the stage. Even if, he thought this was an illusion, he suddenly felt right at home. So although his solo was brief, and no doubt Shining Armor and Vifilly were going to yell at him for not stopping when they got one of the composers – for now, he just wanted to indulge for just a little bit longer.
> 26: Funhouse in Ab Major
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

 Horseshoepin had no idea what was going on. One moment he watched Franz get up on stage and was getting ready to improvise – the next, reality itself went sideways and he was rushed out. He barely had time to process what he saw. Something about paper stars and cardboard cut-outs of a foal’s drawing, then the piano was lifted up and was swinging around with Liszt still playing at the keys. 

Now have been shoved out along with the confused contestants, being barred from entering back inside the tent, he was at a loss, not knowing what to do now. He tried to listen to the commotion that was happening inside but given the noise of the park, he couldn’t clearly make it out. At first, he heard Liszt’s music, some mumbled up arguments, and then a violin cuts in with screaming mares. It almost sounded like a brawl that had broken out. 

All in all, he hoped that Franz, who was still inside might be alright in there.

Despite Frydrych trying to get some answers – unfortunately, so does everyone else. The entrance of the tent was stuffed heavily with the contestants, all trying to get an explanation out of the guards that blocked them. Even when he too wanted to know what was going on, the tightly packed mob that nearly pushed their way was making him claustrophobic. He needed to get out of this mess to breathe for a moment. So, he clawed his way out of the irritated mass, giving himself some space from them. 

Mercifully in front of him was a wooden park bench with no one on it. Ideally, he would sit down to collect his thoughts, and try to figure out a plan regarding Franz. That maybe he would be left alone for a bit to recover to calm his anxiety and bewilderment. However much he would like that as soon as he sat down, it seemed the universe had other plans. Especially with someone asking: “Hey, do I know you?”

Looking up, Frydrych was almost startled by someone’s face is so close. It was a colt, pale as snow, and had scarlet eyes that resembled a cat. For a moment he thought that this was probably one of the freaks that worked here – after all, he had been to a few circuses in his time and all of them had freaks. Only… except for the eyes and the smooth horn on his head, this colt seemed too normal to be part of a freak show.

Frydrych took a moment to catch his breath, and then realize that the colt was still there, waiting on an answer. “Oh huh… I don’t think so.”

“You sure?” the colt tilted his head. “Your face and mane look familiar. I think I’ve seen you somewhere.”

Scooting away a bit in his seat from the infusive young unicorn, Horseshoepin replied, “I think you must have mistaken me for someone else. I’m not anypony.”

“You sure about that?” the colt then jumped on the other end of the bench. “Because I know you look so familiar but I can’t figure out why.”

“Well maybe I happen to have one of those faces,” Frydrych replied being on the very edge of his seat. “Don’t you have a parent or someone to look over you?”

“I have a few ponies foal sitting me, but one of them is using the restroom.” The colt tilted his head this way and that. “But do you know who you remind me of, kinda?”

“As you can see, I make a terrible mind-reader. So no, who?”

“You look that guy, that pianist from… what was it called…? Końland?”

The ears on Horseshoepin’s head perked up.

“From what I was told, he was really, really good at the piano. Like he could improvise on the spot and you would think he spent years practicing.”

He slowly turned towards the colt.

“I think he lived in Prance for a while. And while there he befriended a composer there… Liszt, maybe it was? Sorry, I’m trying to remember here.”

Frydrych sat up in his seat. “Liszt? As in Franz Liszt?”

“Oh yeah! That was the name of the composer but… what was the name of that pianist though? I think it’s right there at the tip of my tongue. Begins with an H, I think. Only what was it…?”

“It’s Horseshoepin.”

The colt blinked, “And is your first name, Frydrych?”

This caught the stallion by surprise. “H-How did you know?”

“You’re him, are you?” With a shine in his feline eye, the colt ecstatically hopped joyfully with a wide grin on his face. “You’re Frydrych Horseshoepin!”

“I- what?”

The colt turned over towards the mob and called out, “Professor Key! Professor! I’ve found him! I’ve found Horseshoepin!”

Frydrych got up, alarmed, “What are you-”

“Over here! Professor! He’s right here!” The colt jumped up and down, waving his forelegs to draw attention. 

“Inverno, what are you doing?” A green Pegasus asked.

“I found him!” Inverno said, “I found… where did he go?”

Horseshoepin had left the bench.

“What are you talking about?”

“I could have sworn that he was…” Inverno saw Horseshoepin quickly entered one of the attractions. “Over there, Mr. Buch! One of the composers! He went in there!” Before Buch could get a word out, Inverno took his hoof and dragged him towards the attraction. The Pegasus looked up at the colorful – if nonsensical sign that hanged above the entrance that was built at such odd angles.

WoNdeRland FunhOuSe

Buch didn’t know what a funhouse was, but when he entered inside the attraction, he was taken aback at what he saw. It was as if the design of a house was drawn up by a madmare. There were pieces of furniture that were bolted to the walls and the ceiling, a staircase where each step was tilted at odd angles. There was a fish tank in the middle that did a loop from the floor to the ceiling. And instead of the usual doorways that lead to other rooms, they were through a fireplace, a cabinet under the waterfall sink, and up the slanting stairs. 

Inverno stopped, his head looking over at the ways that the other composer had probably gone to. His head frantically looked this way and that as if he were lost. “Which way? Which way?”

“Inverno,” Buch pulled his hoof away. “What has gotten into you?”

“Horseshoepin, he was sitting right next to me,” Inverno said impatiently. “He’s another one of the composers I brought back. Now he’s in this crazy place and I don’t know where to look.”

“Oh, well why didn’t you say so.” Buch looked around, he too trying to figure out where to go. “Then chances are, we may still find them.”

“How?”

“I was going to tell you earlier that while I had to find a place to relieve myself, Herr Moztrot had dragged Herr Schubit in here. So more than likely, they may find him. Now whether or not they may encounter him is a different matter. But we should start searching. Perhaps he went up those stairs. Here,” he picked Inverno up and placed him on his back, spreading his wings. “This ought to help make the search swifter.” Then taking flight, he flew up the stairs, going deeper into the funhouse. 





Frydrych was sure he was completely lost. He wasn’t sure at that moment if being in the confusing funhouse is preferable to be hauled away like a criminal. In a situation where he wasn’t sure what was happening to Franz, and a form of police had arrived at the tent. On top of that, some weird, nosy colt suddenly started calling out as if he had robbed someone. For all Frydrych knew, he was a wanted stallion for a crime he was certain he didn’t commit. He had no idea what the police would do to him or on what charge. But a gut instinct told him to run.

At the same time, his hiding place was a place that he could swear the architect had gone mad but no one had ever stood up to say no to him. He went through a hallway that spun around where he couldn’t stand up straight, a room that was crowded with punching bags that had a clown painted on them, and now he was in a maze made up of mirrors. It was confusing to the eye as he wasn’t sure if what he was looking was a mirror or a piece of glass. Then to add to the confusion, objects were being placed in corners such as fountains and pedestals to be reflected in the mirrors. With every step Frydrych took, he saw copies of himself and other things being reflected to infinity. In his rush through the maze, he wasn’t sure if what he was seeing was real or just another mirror to be bumped into.

Yet, while he was lost in the maze, uncertain if he’ll ever find his way out, it did give him a moment to pause to think. How did Franz do all that strange magic where he was certain no unicorn could pull of before? Were those guards or police expecting them since they were already there? Where they there to arrest them – or perhaps contain them for some unknown purpose? And that colt – who was he? How did he know all that stuff about him? Was the colt a part of the guards? And if so, what did they want?

“I think we might have been here before.” Frydrych’s ears perked up. This was a new voice, but where was it coming from? “Because I’m sure we’ve seen this fountain before.”

“Maybe you’re right on this,” another one said in agreement. “Maybe we should have gone right, right, left, left, left, right, left and not right, right, left, left, left, left… Even saying that out loud is making my head dizzy.”

In one of the reflections, Frydrych saw a short, stubby unicorn with glasses going by, followed by an earth pony that gave him pause. The earth pony had a familiar face – one that he saw earlier. From the countless mirrors, it looked awfully a lot like Moztrot.

“Hey, someone else is in here!”

“Where?”

“Just stop for a moment and look, do you see that?”

Now Frydrych could see the two new ponies in every direction, and so can they.

“Hello there!” The white stallion with a pulled-back mane waved. “I take it you’re lost too?”

“I… maybe?” Frydrych said.

“He doesn’t sound too far away,” the unicorn with the specials observed. After adjusting them for a moment he asked, “How long have you been in this crazy place?”

“A few minutes… I think.”

“He sounds really close,” the pale stallion commented, “if fact so close, I’d bet…” Frydrych saw the other stallion reached his hoof out in the glass, and quite unexpectedly, he felt the hoof touch him.

“Gah!” Horseshoepin jumped to the side, only to slam into a mirror. 

“Well what do you know,” the pale stallion said, “I didn’t think there was an opening here.” Then he went over to Frydrych and reached out a helping hoof to him that the stallion was certain that it was too real to be a reflection. “Apologies there, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

“I was merely caught off guard,” Frydrych replied as he was assisted back up on his hooves. “I didn’t expect anyone to be in here.”

“Neither did we, but Stick-in-the-mud here didn’t think anyone would come into a place like this. But I said that if it has the words ‘fun’ and ‘house’ at the front then surely it would have been fun to see what’s inside it. But he then he said, ‘Mr. Moztrot, only insane ponies would put up a confusing maze of mirrors in a hou-‘” 

“What did you say?”

“House?”

“No, not that, you’ve mentioned about a name?”

“Oh, it’s Moztrot.” He shook his hoof, “Wolfgang Moztrot to be exact. And this walking rain-cloud is Herr Schubit.”

Frydrych blinked, “But you can’t be Moztrot, he’s dead.”

“He is.” Schubit said, “Well, I am too, but not… It’s complicated.”

“Huh…” Horseshoepin looked between the two, “Neither of you had woken up a couple of days ago in a boxcar having no idea how you got there too, but then quickly realized that you’re in the future – have you?”

“A bit on the head, but yep!” Moztrot replied, “And I take it that it happened to you too? Wow, small world, isn’t it?”

“Beg your pardon, but what?” Frydrych asked, “You’re telling me that we’re not alone?”

“We?”

“I came to Manehattan with an old friend, but… Both of you woke up somewhere else and-”

“We woke up in new bodies,” Schubit interrupted impatiently, “Yes, yes. We’ve heard this story over and over again from the others.”

“So…” Horseshoepin raised a hoof, “When you say others…?”

“As in we’re not the only ones. And before you ask, all of us are composers from different time periods thanks to a colt dealing with a form of necromancy and said colt with his father is trying to get all of us back together.”

“…. Is that so?”

“I call it oversimplified,” Moztrot waved a dismissive hoof, “but that is the situation in a nutshell. So, I take it you must be one of us then? Oh! I’m so sorry, I realized I forgot to ask you to introduce yourself.”

“It’s… Horseshoepin. My name is Frydrych Horseshoepin.”

“Charmed!” Moztrot shook his hoof again, “Well, I’m Wolfgang Moztrot and this is Franz Schubit. And currently, we’re lost in this maze too.”

This managed to get a chuckle out of Horseshoepin, “You know, I didn’t think I would ever get to meet you. Only I never thought the real Moztrot would be this…”

“Foalish?” Schubit deadpanned. “Why yes, I’ve noticed.”

Moztrot ignored that jab and instead turned back to the maze, “Nevertheless, we should stay together, hopefully, three ponies could find themselves out of a maze much quicker than two. Let’s go this way!” He said moving forward. Schubit and Horseshoepin followed closely behind him. “Hey, let’s play a game. Since I don’t know you all that well, let’s play reverse twenty-questions.”

“What’s that?” Horseshoepin asked.

“You know how in the normal game you have to ask questions to deduce what your friend is thinking? You do the same thing but in reverse where the answer is you, but we have to figure you out backwords.”

“I don’t think that’s how the game works.” Schubit pointed out.

“My game, my rules.” Then he added, looking over his shoulder, “Let’s make this easy – we’ll ask twenty yes or no questions from both of us.” Then after making a turn he began, “Were either of us alive when you were?”

“I… don’t know about him,” he pointed to Schubit, “but I’m going to say… no.”

“As in after us?”

“I… assume so, yes.”

Moztrot made another turn, “Were you born west of Whienna?”

“No.”

“South?”

“No.”

“So maybe west of Budyonny?” Schubit asked.

“Yes.”

“Ohh,” Moztrot mused, “an Easterner, how very interesting.” He made another turn. “Have you ever performed in any major city in your lifetime?”

“Yes.”

“Like Paris?”

“Oh yes, I moved there.”

“My, you poor soul.”

Horseshoepin blinked, “What do you mean by that?”

“I don’t know what Paris was like for you, but when I went there – the Parisians lacked in sophistication or taste. Thankfully I didn’t stay there long.”

“That’s funny because Paris has changed when I was there.”

“Hm, perhaps I was there at the wrong time and place. But anyways uh…” He looked over behind him, “you ask a question.”

“Fine…” Schubit mused over for a bit. “Did you compose big pieces for orchestras?”

“Rarely, but overwhelmingly, no.”

“Something smaller?”

“Yes.”

“Like say… the piano?”

“Absolutely yes.”

“So by my count,” Moztrot said, making another turn, “that’s eleven questions asked. Now maybe we should ask for something more useful. Let’s see…” While he thought it over, he made another turn. “Did you ever had a marefriend?”

“How is that useful?” Schubit questioned.

“I had a few, yes,” Horseshoepin answered.

“Were you ever married?” Moztrot inquired.

“No. Never really found anyone I could settle down with.”

“To be fair,” Schubit commented, “I’m more or less in the same boat.”

“Perhaps that explains why you’re a Herr Grumpy,” Moztrot joked. “So, do you remember living long?”

“…. I… don’t know how to answer that. I mean, if you count living up to the age of thirty-nine as long.”

“Thirty-five myself,” Moztrot said. “Hey, what about you, Schubit, how long did you li-”

“Thirty-one,” Schubit interrupted.

Moztrot paused to look between him and Horseshoepin, “How come all the good talent tend to die off before they’re forty? That to me is viscously unfair. But that’s not a yes or no question. And we’re up to… fourteen questions so we have six left. Only, what to ask, I wonder.”

“I have a question,” Schubit looked over his shoulder, “Have you experienced any strange magic that changed reality?”

“What kind of question is that?” Horseshoepin questioned.

“I will take that as a no.” Moztrot nodded, turning around another corner. “How about this, were you ever successful as a composer?”

“…. I don’t think so.”

“Huh,” Schubit paused, “Neither was I.”

“To be fair, I was terrible when it came to money so… probably… not…” He stopped again to look over his shoulder, “But surely, that must be a coincidence. Not all of us that were brought back died unsuccessfully… Right?”

“I… no,” Horseshoepin answered. “No that’s not quite right, my friend Franz Liszt was very successful, even near the end of his life as he told me.”

“Very well.” Moztrot turned another corner. “That just leaves two more questions left.”

Schubit blinked, “No, there’s still three left.”

“I asked a yes or no question, so I think that counts.”

“Well regardless, I do have a question.” Schubit then asked after Moztrot turned another corner in the maze. “If given the chance, knowing that we’re in the future, would you still want to return to the place you called home?”

“Even if I could at least see my native Końland for another minute, I would.”

“Ah,” Moztrot nodded, “Now that is indeed interesting since where I come from, I didn’t know many composers from Końland.”

“Understandable,” Horseshoepin nodded, “even when I was a foal, ponies have hailed me to be the next Beethooven. Although personally, I don’t think I’ve ever reached his level.”

“You’re lucky,” Schubit remarked, “at least you’re not being accused of copying Moztrot.”

“What does that supposed to mean?” Moztrot inquired.

Schubit snorted, refused to answer.

In the awkward silence, Horseshoepin coughed in his hoof. “So, I believe there is one more question remaining?”

“Yes, there is!” Moztrot said, taking another turn. “Do you like parties?”

“Well… not big ones. I actually prefer ones that are small and there are a few good friends around. The kind you could let your guard down for a while.”

Just then, Moztrot took another turn and seemed to have disappeared for a moment. Schubit and Horseshoepin blinked. Before they could ask where he went, Wolfgang poked his head back, “I found the way out!”

“Finally,” Schubit sighed out in relief. “These mirrors were giving me a headache anyway.”

So Horseshoepin and Schubit walked out of the maze and into a room where the entire floor was filled with brightly colored plastic balls. The two stallions stood on a short platform and they noticed a similar door just across from them. However, they were confused as they didn’t see Moztrot anywhere.

“Mr. Moztrot?” Horseshoepin asked aloud. “Where are you?”

“Hello!” Moztrot shouted, his head popping through the colorful balls with a gleeful smile. 

“Gah!” Schubit screamed, being so startled that he lost his balance and fell into the carpet of balls. A moment later he resurfaced. “Huh?” He looked around, holding up a blue plastic ball in his hoof. “What is this?”

“Isn’t this delightful?” Moztrot asked, who was swimming among the balls. “I’d bet there’s never been an aristocrat whoever thought of installing a pit full of balls filled with air.” He waved over to Horseshoepin, “Come on in, friend! The balls are fine. He-he, balls.”

Schubit rolled his eyes.

Horseshoepin looked over the edge of the short platform. “How deep is it?”

“Just to give you an idea,” Moztrot said, taking a moment to pause, allowing the balls to go halfway up his neck. “I can feel the floor just by standing. So come on in! Have a bit of fun.”

Seeing that it would be the only way to get across, Horseshoepin took care to avoid Schubit and jumped right in. He immediately felt the floor, but for the most part, the plastic balls held him up. While he was suspended, he had a brief thought that maybe, this is how Pegasi feel when they walk on clouds. 

Still, while he swam among the orbs of blue, red, yellow, and green, there was something about this situation that was… foalish, in a playful way. He saw Moztrot grabbed one of the balls and tossed one over at Schubit. Despite the annoyed expression Schubit had and Moztrot laughing, he laughed too. In a way, it reminded him of the winters of his youth where the foals would toss snowballs at one another to the point a full-out battle would occur in the street. For a moment, while Moztrot was throwing a few in his direction and he did so back, he briefly forgot that he was playing with a musical giant. It was as if for a moment, he got his foalhood back.

“Ugh!” Schubit swam over to the exit, grumbling, “I’m surrounded by children.” After he swam over the balls and onto the other platform he looked at what was on the other side of the doorway. “Somehow, I should have expected this from an eccentric place as this.”

“Oh! I love eccentric,” Moztrot said, “what did you find?”

“There’s a slide here.” Schubit leaned a little into the doorway and over the side. “This one looks long and it twists around to the bottom. Well, if it means getting out of here.” Schubit sat down and push himself to slide downward.

Moztrot’s eyes went wide with joy. “Frydrych! I’ll race you!”

Still at that playful high, Horseshoepin and Moztrot rushed over to the platform like foals would to be the first to get the first batch of sweets. They clawed on there to be the first to go down the slide. And though Frydrych didn’t get to reach it first, it didn’t dampen his rhapsodic happiness as he began to slide down the metallic half tubes that twisted all the way down.

Within the first few moments, something inside of him felt that emotion that was so strong that it unexpectedly exploded out from him. All around him he heard a piano playing loudly as if it were coming from inside his withers. And it was something that he knew well. An etude that rushed out like a rapid river with notes going as fast as he was sliding down echoed out.



The moment that music came out of Horseshoepin that the slide had dramatically changed. While the three were still sliding down, the slide had moved like a serpent and split like a river. In time with the music, the three stallions were sliding down, sideways, upside-down, and even backward. Some looped while others bounced like a sled over rolling hills. They even jumped and landed on other slides. It was as if the three of them were being juggled by the slide itself.

Schubit was screaming and seemed to be turning green.

Moztrot was screaming too but he was from having the time of his life.

And Horseshoepin was laughing in amazement at what was happening all around him.

Was this what was going on with Liszt? Horseshoepin wondered. Is this the reason why they were being sought after? If so, he could see why as all of this was almost unbelievable to him. The way the twisting slide was bending in time to the music, he suddenly realized that at that from his short etude – he was the one controlling reality to his amusement.

Now everything made sense!

Yet, as soon as the fantastic magic started, the music went through its final bars to its ending. As if anticipating this moment, the diverging slides soon joined as one as the three of them nearly collided with one another as they reached the very bottom with the exit in sight. When those final chords came to close out the piece, the three of them landed on a blue padded mat, tumbling into one another.

Schubit was the first to land on this mat, followed by Moztrot and then Horseshoepin on top of him.

“That was incredible!” Moztrot shouted. 

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Schubit said, his face turning green and trying his best to hold his bile in for the tenth time that day.

“What…” Horseshoepin looked behind him at the slide that has turned back to normal. “What was that?”

“Remember that thing about having magic?” Moztrot asked and he nodded. “That is what we were talking about. And from what I’ve seen and heard,” he shook his hoof. “I believe this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship!”

“There you two are!” The three of them looked up to see Buch and Inverno there. Buch put the colt down. “We were looking all over this madding place for you.”

“Especially you,” Inverno pointed at Horseshoepin.

“Oh hey!” Moztrot wrapped a hoof around Frydrych. “You’re just in time to meet a new friend of mine.”
> 27: Reality Check in C minor
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

The past several weeks for Braeburn were good. More than that even. Ever since that strange incident with one of his farmhooves, things have been looking up. With the apples seemed to have grown overnight, the farmer has found the means to keep his workers busy and to get a hefty profit as well. Since he was able to sell his crop ahead of season, Appaloosa quickly bought them out.

Whatever the pony that claimed to be Beethooven had done, it certainly improved the apples. In the past several days, Braeburn was getting compliments of how large and sweet the fruit has been. Even despite the price had slightly increased, it didn’t matter to the town’s folk as they just wanted more of it.

By the end of the day, Braeburn felt good about himself. So much so, that there was a skip to his step when he entered the Salt Lick. 

“Howdy Brae,” the barpony behind the counter greeted him, “the usual?”

“Yep!” he sat down at the bar. “Today’s been really good so Ah want ta top it off with a drink.”

“Oh yeah?” the barpony took out a bottle of apple cider and pulled out a glass. “I haven’t seen you for a while. Everything alright?”

“Better than that!” Braeburn smiled. “Had a welcomin’ surprise lately that… well… Ah don’t have ta close the farm.”

“Well, that is worth celebrating,” he started pouring the golden liquid into the glass. “Congrats on that. So how did you get enough money this quickly?”

“Ya know the fella that thinks he Beethooven? Well, Ah don’t know what he did but somehow, he got mah trees to blossom and grew fruit overnight. Wouldn’t believe it if Ah didn’t see it happen mahself.”

“Is that so?”

“Uh-huh.” Braeburn drink in a mouthful of the cider. “Ah call it a real-life saver. Not only Ah can keep and pay mah farmhooves, but even give ‘em a raise too. Ah swear that every barrel Ah brin’ ta the market gets cleared out under an hour. Maybe less than that. Sure, Ah may have ta raise prices a tad since they’re the only apples in town, but nopony’s complain’ cause of how good they are.”

“I see,” the barpony nodded. “I suppose you’ve already said thanks to Beethooven yet, have you?”

“With all that’s been goin’ on, haven’t got around to it yet.”

“Or you could do it now,” he pointed, “he’s still sitting over by the corner over there.”

Looking over his shoulder, Braeburn spotted the signature wild-mane stallion. Beethooven sat there with a mug, a pot pie, and scribbling away on a notepad. He was so preoccupied with whatever he was working on that he seemed blissfully unaware of whatever was going on around him. 

Getting up with the glass in his hoof, Braeburn went over to Beethooven. “What ya got there?” He asked, taking a seat across from him.

“Finally putting to paper what has been on my mind for the past few days,” Beethooven replied without looking up.

Braeburn saw a sketch of sheet music that, although upside-down, he saw something that was messy-looking and complicated. Whatever the pony was working on, it seemed he was doing all of this in a hurry. As if in fear that if he doesn’t jot whatever he had in mind down that he’s gonna forget it. 

“Uh-huh,” Braeburn took a sip of his cider. “So besides… whatever it is yer doin’, how ya been lately?”

“Why do you want to know?”

He shrugged, “Besides the fact ya work fer me, Ah’m just curious ta know how ya been holdin’ up so far.”

“Things are getting better, I suppose,” Beethooven said, drawing up another set of lines and quickly scribbling the clef and key signatures. “Now that I have a room just above the Salt Lick, and a supply of food, drink, and money, I can plan out my future.”

“Oh yeah?” Braeburn took another sip. “What do ya have in mind, partner?”

Beethooven looked up for the first time, “Have I not make that clear? I’m trying to do all I can to get back home to Whinnyana. Did I ever mention that I want to know what happened to my nephew?”

“Kinda, sorta,” Braeburn waved a hoof. “But still, goin’ all the way there – even fer a one-way trip is… pretty expensive ta say the least.”

“Which is why I have been saving up. Even I’m taking into account the supplies and such I would need for such a journey.”

“Sure…” for a moment, Braeburn fell silent and contemplated a bit over another mouthful of cider. “But Ah do have one question though. Let’s suppose ya did get over to Whinnyana and ya find out what yer nephew’s been up ta. So… What are ya gonna do then?”

“Pardon?”

“Ah mean, even if you get there, what are plannin’ on doin’ as a job? Have ya thought of it that far?”

“Of course, I have,” he set his pencil down. “When I get home, I’m going to go back to doing what I’ve always done. Be a freelance musician and composer. Now that I have my hearing back, I could become the virtuoso I once was. My skills at the fortepiano are legendary.”

“Uh-huh… But are ya sure that’s a good idea though?”

Beethooven raised an eyebrow, “What are you implying?”

Breathing in deeply, Braeburn set his glass down. “Before Ah say anythin’, just know that Ah’m gonna be blunt because as nutty as Ah think yer are, Ah think you’re a decent enough fella. So don’t think what Ah’m gonna say is ta discourage ya, but give ya a reality check. Now with that said…” He breathes in deeply again, “even if you’re really Beethooven, and ya expect ta get any money from the way ya used ta do all those hundreds of years ago… ya gonna end up dirt poor.”

Beethooven was taken aback at this statement. “Why? In my time-”

“Exactly,” Braeburn interrupted. “That kind of music was popular… several centuries ago. Ya are aware of how much things have changed since Beethooven, right? Ah’m not just talkin’ in terms of technology or politics but culturally, things have changed. Music alone has changed drastically now. Ah mean sure, Beethooven is still remembered but if Ah’m bein’ honest here… There are very few that listen ta classical now. With the exception of those upper-class, snooty snobs, or old folks, or the occasional foal that would play classical at a recital – ya don’t have much of an audience.”

“What? Are you saying that society as a whole has gotten dumber?”

Braeburn shook his head, “No, more tired. Look, why has it taken ya this long ta sit down and write… whatever it is yer writin’?”

“Because I was busy working hard.”

He nodded, “Exhaustin’ work, and that’s part of the key here. Ponies are now workin’ their flanks off more than at the time of Beethooven. Ah don’t know if ya noticed, but there was an industrial revolution where lots and lots of ponies were sent ta work ta earn a livin’. Even now, despite the limit of bein’ eight hours a day, and even then some ponies have more than one job jus’ ta pay the bills so really, most tend ta work sixteen at most… At the end of the day, they’re jus’ flat out tired. Why do ya think most popular songs are less than five minutes? Fer some, they jus’ have barely enough time ta sleep, eat and work.

“That,” Braeburn continued, “and unlike back then, we have more choices in what we want ta be entertained by now more than ever. There’s almost always a bunch of new stuff being made every day that everyone wants ta try. It doesn’t matter if it’s good, just that it’s new.”

Beethooven slumped in his seat. “So you’re telling me that there’s no hope, is that right?”

“Now hang on, that’s not what Ah’m sayin’ at all. In a world like this, ya jus’ need ta adapt is all.” Braeburn took another sip of his cider. “Ya know… if Beethooven were alive today, as in if he wrote the same stuff as he did back then… maybe… Ah can see ‘em as one of those film composers.”

“Film?” Beethooven tilted his head.

“Ya know, movies and such. Just writin’ music ta whatever is playin’ on a screen. Maybe he would write the kind of music that would make whatever scene be so movin’. Ah mean, if yer on the same level as he was… Who knows, maybe there ya have a better future. If it’s good enough, ya can have those movies be set to an orchestra or what have ya. Besides, if ya did go down that route, ya would have a much wider audience. Not just ta watch the movies but listen ta it as well.”

Beethooven sat there in a contemplating mood. As much as he didn’t want to admit it to himself – Braeburn did have a point. He was in a new world. Of course, the tastes of ponies have changed over time. Yet, even with music as he knew it has been dying, then if what this yellow stallion was saying is true… perhaps there was a way he could adapt. Sure, he didn’t know what the words “film” and “movie” were, but if it was still a way for his new music to be heard… “And where would I go to do this?” He asked.

“Where a good chunk of all movies is made, of course. In Applewood. Ah can guarantee that it’s a much shorter train ride than goin’ all the way ta Whinnyana. Which, if ya ask me, might be the smartest choice.”

“You think I might succeed better there?”

“If yer any good.” Braeburn got up, “Ah heard the pay is pretty good as there’s few that could do it. So who knows? Maybe ya might become the next Beethooven for the movies. So if you’re seriously thinkin’ of goin’ ta Applewood,” he grabbed his glass, “ya might have enough bits fer the trip. But that’s jus’ mah opinion though. Ah won’t tell ya that ya should do it, but it is somethin’ ta consider.”

Beethooven fell into silence. So even after Braeburn bid him good night and that he’ll see him at work in the morning, it left the old composer there in thought. The conversation has left him wondering if going back home would even be an option. Even if he was still remembered, what was he expecting to go back to Whinnyana? He didn’t have that much bits to even rent a home there. What if it was true that tastes had changed? What would be the point of composing those piano sonatas, string quartets, concertos, and symphonies now if hardly anyone hardly listens to them anymore? How could he expect to get patronage for something that some have seen as old fashion? 

Besides… as dark of a thought as it was… he had come to realize that everyone he once knew and cared for from his close friends to his nephew is by now in a grave somewhere. As far as he knew, he is the only one of his time still alive. Going back to his beloved Whinnyana would be in a sense, pointless. As he had no one he knew there. 

‘Perhaps…’ he wondered to himself as he finally turned his attention to his now cold pie. ‘I could find better fortune in Applewood.’