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I was fifteen when I entered the Witch King's Spire.

I came from an ordinary family in Kreis Einwald. I should not have been able to become a noble's attendant, but I heard that Herkunftshorn made no distinction between nobles and commoners.

This was not because he treated commoners particularly well, but because he looked down equally on all who cowered at the foot of his throne.

At first, my job was to clean his instruments. But Herkunftshorn no longer played ordinary music, and those instruments had no meaning.

Later, I was sent to clean the resonance pipelines at the top of the Spire. It was not a difficult job, but Herkunftshorn would not tolerate even a single speck of dust in them.

My colleagues came and went. Few got to leave on their own two feet. In the end, I was the only one left, quietly cleaning at the top of the tower.

And a thousand sunrises and sunsets later, the Witch King's Spire fell.

Cut off the way down.

Attention all squads. Find the Sankta. Do not allow her to enter the amphitheater and interrupt the performance of the Güldenesgesatz.

The target is known to use unusual Arts. You have permission to kill if necessary.

Hello. Were you looking for me?

—Barrier up!

Get in formation! Catch her!

Hm...

Arturia Giallo.

Leithanien took you in when you became a pariah in Laterano. Countless nobles honored you for your remarkable musical talent.

The Kaiserinnen granted you rights equivalent to spire nobility.

So return to your cell and submit to them, and they may yet allow you to live.

That was never an option.

What point is there to living if I can't play freely?

Then accept your death.

Your Arts have gotten stronger.

You missed your chance to break out, Sankta.

The Güldenesgesatz is in progress. Do you see the scene outside? Your parlor tricks are meaningless before the golden glory of Leithanien.

Yes, I can feel that your will is firmer than ever.

But is it <i>your</i> will expressing that music, or has the melody convinced you that what you see is what you think?

That's irrelevant. The golden melody guides me. My will echoes along with it!

You, our enemy, will melt before Leithanien's radiance—

...She's gone?

An illusion? But there was no music!

Why does everyone keep assuming that I create illusions?

I warned you. When your emotions are being controlled by a melody that doesn't belong to yourself, you can easily overlook the reality before you... Like where I moved to in that 'radiance.'

Behind—

Barrier— too late—

Now, I would like to ask you to kindly remove the Arts cast on my instrument.

There, it's clean now. Danke.

How did we... lose to you?

Normally I wouldn't stand a chance, but your souls have become stiff and inflexible due to the bindings of the Güldenesgesatz, creating innumerable weaknesses in your Arts.

But... why? With Arts like these, you could have changed your destiny, enjoyed wealth, fame, and favor beyond reckoning... What meaning is there in defying the Kaiserinnen?

Hm, I think we have very different views on the meaning of meaning.

Fame, fortune, status... All merely accessories to a soul that will eventually wither and rot with the passage of time.

Kurfürst, beggar, or myself, the only difference is in the whispers of our hearts.

I want to climb the tallest spire. Because of a melody, a soul, and a future.

And for a promise I made to a friend.

Ten years had passed since the death of the Witch King. I was attending the funeral of an old friend.

After the funeral, I saw a Sankta with her cello in the amphitheater below the Twin Spires. Others came and went, but she stood there from noon until sundown.

According to legend, even the clouds stopped for the Witch King when he played up on his spire.

I wonder... do the clouds remember what the Spire looked like back then?

I suppose not. Clouds change so quickly, after all.

My teacher often told me of how he stood beneath the Witch King's Spire while it was still standing, playing for the sole sovereign of Leithanien.

The golden-red clouds embraced the dark spire like an extravagant robe.

He wanted to come back and see the spectacle again, but wasn't allowed to participate in Das Kaiserinnensfest. In fact, he could barely get permission to leave his home.

Herr Emmanuel was one of the Witch King's musicians, after all, even if just for a short while. Times were hard for him after the Witch King's demise.

Few came to say their goodbyes, and you were the only one to truly shed tears for him.

I heard your playing at the funeral. It was very touching.

Danke.

But that doesn't bring even the slightly bit of comfort to my teacher.

I asked to play for him while he was still alive, but he refused. During his days of pain and hardship, he refused to dwell on the happiness of the past, nor did he seek any change.

He simply shut himself in his room, playing the Güldenesgesatz over and over again.

Through that unchanging melody, he drowned himself in Leithanien's greatness. Forgetting love, forgetting hate, and forgetting himself.

Yet, when faced with death, his heart was still filled with... regret.

I've heard far too much regret over these long years.

My image of Herr Emmanuel remained that of the energetic old man who thanked you with a hearty laugh when you passed him his instrument.

I heard that, in the end, he was too weak to even lift a bow.

I thought that without the shadow of the Witch King's Spire, the skies of Leithanien would change greatly.

I thought that, going from Vedunien to Zwillingstürme, from the Witch King's Spire to the Twin Empresses' Spires, the melody echoing in the dusk would be somehow different.

But both then and now, we are like the clouds, unable to control where we drift.

You...

Why are you not going downstairs?

I have no interest in this sort of 'concert.'

A melody that binds the listener's will is just another form of law.

How did you know—

As complex as your Arts are, their structure is clearly visible to those familiar with Originium Arts and music. In that sense, it's different from Laterano's law.

Music should come from the unrestrained breathing of the soul, but you turned it into a cornerstone of order, all to control people's wills and wear down their emotions.

True bonds between souls are growing weaker. People are increasingly unable to understand one another, unable to respect the emotions of one another, and as such do harm to one another.

Such a rigid melody is no music at all.

Ugh—!

We're almost at the top. I should start preparing for the next piece, before this one ends.

It's almost time to make good on our promise, isn't it?

As you said, this is a good place to play... or listen.

Is this my deepest memory?

Yes.

Sorry.

Why apologize?

Very few have invited me to play their heart's music of their own accord. Most did whatever they could to escape. Yet you have bared your soul to me... For that, I am grateful, and overjoyed.

I just thought I could show you the death of the Witch King through my memories.

My music simply follows the melody of your heart. It cannot decide what you recall. All I can do is feel your emotions, and recreate them.

Sounds like sculpting, then.

You could say that. I discover and record, rather than changing one's true visage.

There is only one reason we cannot enter the Witch King's Spire in your memories.

Whenever you recall his death, there is a... hand that truly moves your emotions.

A hand that grabbed you amidst that great flood of Arts.

Whose hand was it?

Whose hand was it?

It was...

Look out!

They're coming one after another. Federico and I will try to hold them off.

You're blind, and it's too risky. Grab my hand and stay close.

...You're so much like him.

You mean... my father?