act29side

Stop knocking on the window sill. Are you trying to send a secret message?

As you can see, I am unable to play my cello because it's been Arts-locked. It is... uncomfortable.

Unless you would care to join me for a chat.

Absolutely not.

Very well then. I suppose I'll have to wait for another guest.

Try anything funny, and we'll bind your arms and legs with Arts.

My apologies, but Grimmacht has forbidden anyone from meeting with Arturia.

Not even an Empresses' Voice?

No exceptions.

Then what about... Ewigegnade's envoy?

...Ewigegnade sent you?

Was that not clear enough?

Now this is a surprise.

To think you'd be the first to come and see me.

This is the second time we've met, Arturia.

Oh, more than that, I would think.

How many times have we met, in the sound of music?

I see your words are as mysterious as your music. And yourself.

Me? Mysterious?

On the contrary, I'm far more open and frank than most.

So an Empresses' Voice, a paragon of law and order, has come to meet with a dangerous felon alone. Even going as far as to fake an empress's orders to do so... That must have taken quite a bit of determination.

You knew I wasn't sent by Ewigegnade?

There's nothing she could possibly want to ask me. But you, Viviana, your face is full of question marks. So what would you like to know, from your former enemy?

Allow me to guess... you want to know the truth behind your father's death.

Ja.

That said, I'm not used to answering questions.

Do I need to offer you something in exchange?

A trade, hm... How about you simply open yourself up to me, and allow me to search your heart?

That's...

Oh, pardon my impertinence.

Then let's tell a story together, as usual.

Once upon a time, there was a child who lived on top of a tower in the middle of a storm.

Until the age of nine, she never left her little room in the tower.

You know my—

Oh, don't give me that look. Like I said, this is simply a story we're telling together.

Imagine that you're a part of it, and... reach out to yourself.

...Very well.

Tell me, what is it about the tower that left the deepest impression on the child?

The window.

It was a small room. The window was small, too. You could reach out and touch the cold, wet clouds.

The storms rarely abate in Sturmland, do they?

Ja. Dark lightning often knocked at the window. My mother would hold me, telling stories and reading me poems in a soft, gentle voice.

What about your father?

He... One night a week, he would come to the spire where I lived, bringing me books and teaching me to play instruments.

You looked forward to these meetings. Did you leave your room and wait for him at the top of the staircase, when it was almost time?

When I was little. But I stopped.

What happened?

The skies were very dark that day. It had been a long time my father's last visit. I was out of candles, and I wanted to find some, so I went further than I usually did.

I saw so many children and adults. The music combined with their laughter was louder than the thunder.

That's when you realized that not every child had to stay in their room like you did. That they could hold their parents' hands, and dance and sing to their hearts' delight.

...Ja.

Did you see your father there? Did you look for him?

I wanted to, but my mother pulled me back. She covered my ears, and tried to cover my eyes too... It hurt a bit, but I didn't dare say anything.

She brought you back to your little room. Did you look up?

Nein. I... I kept my eyes closed. I heard my mother crying, but I didn't dare look at her.

Didn't dare?

...Ja. I didn't dare go down the stairs. I didn't dare look for my father anymore.

I never looked up again, even after my mother passed away, when my father sent me away from the spire.

Why not?

My father was a Kurfürst. He and my mother weren't married. My existence was a secret that would hurt my mother and make things difficult for my father if anyone found out.

No, that's not what I'm asking. How did <i>you</i> feel?

Me...?

You were the one trapped in the spire. You were the one forbidden to recognize your father. You were the one who watched your mother waste away. You were the one sent away from home.

When you went to Kazimierz and decided to become a knight, you held a sliver of expectation.

After all, the stories of your childhood, the stories about knights, had long been your source of comfort.

But you soon realized you were no more than a puppet of the General Chamber of Commerce.

Even your childhood in the spire was boiled down to an exotic label. 'The Leithanian.' An advertisement destined to sell in the markets of both countries.

You left the arena after getting on the wrong side of the KGCC. You thought you would finally have some peace and quiet, only to be summoned back to Leithanien by a letter from your father.

Once again, you find your fate written by another. Illegitimate child, competition knight, Empresses' Voice. You never chose any of these identities.

And it all started on that spire, at the top of those stairs.

...You're right.

It's been so many years, but sometimes I feel like I'm still there.

Like I never left it.

Once again, think back to the memory that left the deepest impression.

That day, when your father took your hand and descended the seemingly endless stairs... You didn't look up.

I couldn't.

If I did, he would see the tear stains on my face, and the tears in my eyes...

Anger.

'I already lost my mother. Why are you pushing me away like this?'

Ja. I had... nothing.

Why abandon me?

I already lost my mother. Why did I have to lose my father too?

Why couldn't you have waited in Marigold Alley just a little longer?

Why did you write for me to come back, only to leave me again once I'd returned with hope in my heart?

Arturia does not answer.

She simply gazes at Viviana, at the ripples in the lake of her eyes.

If silence can be considered an expression of sound, then their emotions could resonate even without a melody.

Anger, frustration, pain. The same emotions reflected in Arturia's eyes.

She sighs, and awakens the dreamer from her memory with gentle words.

That's enough storytime.

Kurfürst Werner was my friend, Viviana.

Our meeting was so ordinary that it's hardly worth mentioning. He was a high noble, but also a sensitive and romantic artist. We often spoke about music.

A few months ago, his envoy found me while I was traveling.

He knew his days were numbered. All he wanted was to see his beloved again, through my music.

He wanted to see Mother?

Not just Lucinda, but you as well.

Werner did reminisce about his romance with Lucinda, but he spent even more time in that little room on the spire.

Those nights with you and your mother were his only comfort in those painful early days as Kurfürst.

That's how I knew your story.

So it wasn't...