pianst

No need to describe him so painstakingly. I know the feeling of losing a loved one.

I paid a visit to my mentor just before this. In your manner, she has little good to say about her daughter. She calls her stubborn, disobedient, unappreciative...

But once she has no more to say, she weeps too hard to breathe.

It is what it is to be vulnerable. Masking it by lambasting the dead hides nothing.

I know the Graf's funeral will draw great attendance from nobles, and you're quite used to striking two fowls with one stone, so my guess is...

Correct. Your patron will be inviting many music critics.

You have quite a reputation already, but it's still not enough... Yes, let's be frank. It's far from enough. We must grab every opportunity we can to boost your fame.

Even your elder brother's funeral?

If it were a private remembrance, I would be glad to perform <i>Morgen und Abend</i>. However, before such stuck-up nobles and holier-than-thou critics...

It's you who needs the consolation at this time, Gertrude. Not them.

I know it doesn't take your fancy. When it comes to music, you're forever pure. I, though, am not you.

Those things you find insignificant—money, fame, connections... I have to care. The artist can focus on one thing only, but the patron cannot.

Gertrude...

Think about it. Okay?

Suppertime, Mein Herr!

Mein Herr—

Ursula, thank you, I heard you. Please lower your voice.

...Have you been waiting for me this whole time?

That I have.

Tell me, what's the matter now? You were finally in good spirits for once...

Gertrude had a... request for me. She's asking I perform <i>Morgen und Abend</i> at her brother's funeral.

And how can you say no, when she's your very own patron?

...They are laying a noble to rest in a public service, Ursula.

Performing <i>Morgen und Abend</i>, for me, is like... tearing off my own shell... displaying the most vulnerable part of me to someone else, hoping they'll understand, that they'll resonate with it.

Tell me to perform it for you, for Gertrude, for anyone in the Afterglow you like, and it would be my delight. Because I know you would understand me.

But those nobles, those critics... what will they understand? The technical prowess? Maybe they'll echo that one certain baffling review of the piece...

'The composer's meager stature is so far short of the musical ambition as to unbalance the whole thing'?

Why should I have to make my vulnerability into a show for them? For the <i>fame?</i> The <i>money?</i>

Oh now now, slowly, Mein Herr, slow down. First we have some supper, yes?

Reports of the remnants' movements, gathering points of private arms... *sigh* Oh, dear brother, you.

Dame Strollo—

What is going on? You—aren't those papers confidential?

All the more reason to feed them to the fireplace.

And by the way, Lachmann... it's been quite a few years since 'Herr Caster' planted you in Vyseheim.

You...?!

Don't worry, 'he' was my father's handler, then my brother's, and now mine. I don't plan to change anything there.

...I thank your graciousness, Dame S—Dame Gertrude, excuse me.

We need the funeral sorted before we make our next move. What's still unaccounted for?

I believe you know exactly what.

Those critics are gushing with the honor of being invited to a Graf's funeral, but should the musician himself fail to show...

Hah, yes.

He's a fool. Such a fool he'd turn away a silver platter of fame and fortune.

And that very foolishness is key. <i>Morgen und Abend</i> could only have been written in his longing for Fanny, not in mine for my dearest brother.

If you truly want this sentimental man fiddling in the palm of your hand, perhaps you should take things to the next level with him personally...

Not one more inappropriate suggestion. He has no such interest in me. Getting him to see me as his generous patron, the most trustworthy of his friends, is enough.

But if...

You think all my efforts will be for naught on the off-chance he doesn't turn up, correct?

He will.

You have a backup plan?

'Backup plan'. No, I simply know him well enough.

Or perhaps I should say, he's too blindingly simple of a person. One casual chat and you've already hit his deepest depths.

What do you mean by 'that was when you started waiting for me to eat'? Always I waited for you before supper, you hear.

I remember one time Fanny came to tell me there was an error in one of my counterpoint exercises, and I pushed away my plate and rushed right to my mentor's home to quarrel with her until the dead of night...

I came home on an empty stomach to find the table cleared, nothing left.

How was I supposed to know they'd have no food that day, eh. Besides, didn't I bring over m'own catering for her the next day?

...On which Fanny burnt her tongue.

And you almost dropped m'roast potatoes on the floor.

The potato soup's still warm, now, have another bowl.

Hrm.

Who's there? Let yourself in, it's open.

Come on in, come on in!

So much easier to find your place now, Frau Ursula.

The Herr fought for that, y'see.

Hahah, he's fought for much more than himself!

Congrats to you all on the new home, and congrats to you, Czerny, it feels like yesterday you were a little brat and now you've done something we could never dream of and become talk of the town!

*clicks tongue* What a splendiferous place... What's this, a bathtub?

I haven't seen one of these in years, now. Frau, how's it to use?

You're asking? M'bone joints used to itch each time it rained, oh, terrible, I couldn't stand it. Now with all the Herr's done, I dip in the tub and m'body comes out sixty years younger!

You see that, Czerny, Frau Ursula's life is never better! That's you, you made it happen!

Mrm... mm.

Here, take this! Fine wine, the finest, they love it all day in the Cliffy Patio. If you knew how long it took me to get it from that asshole running the cafe...

You're too kind, too kind. We're havin' supper right now, stay and have some, ja?

No need.

There was this whole party of people the other day, couldn't tell you where from, come 'in search of the place where the great composer Czerny was born'.

At that very same time I was drumming up customers with my accordion, and whoof, good day for the ol' fried sauerkraut stand. If I ever get business like that again, oh, you bet I'm there.

Right, you get on with it!

Mein Herr, what's the matter with you? Someone drops by, and he's here to housewarm you. You don't even say hello?

I was quite a hassle to him before, so it's just... a little awkward for me.

Hassle? Oh, that fight, you mean, the one you had.

*clears throat*.

Old news, old. You told him sorry, and you heard him, you were just caring too much, that's all. Him, he holds nothing against you.

That was...

I know, you're not too good with words. The whole Afterglow knows, ja? We know.

But I'll tell you what you do have, now. It's too much temper.

Fräulein Fanny, when she couldn't taste the food she ate? She didn't know up from down she was so sick, that's why she thought, gosh, they must be doing it to me on purpose. Then you come along and get carried away with it, why?

Scared the daylights out of me when you stormed up to his stand, never saw you so furious in all my life—

...My bad, my bad. Eat, go on, let's eat.

Ursula.

What is it, Mein Herr?

Would you say, if I went to that funeral, then more of that... business, that the Herr mentioned, would come in?

If I should show my weakness to the ones who don't give a shit about our fates, to let them scrutinize me, then would the Afterglow... have a few more houses with bathtubs, maybe?

Mein Herr...

No, this is wrong. This isn't how music should be. At least not my music.

But...

'Because I know neither I, nor my music, will make it out of our little Afterglow again.'

'Promise me. Don't end up like me. Do better than I did... okay?'

Mein Herr, where're you off to?

Gertrude.

The sooner I accept her invitation, the sooner I can start arranging <i>Morgen und Abend</i> for solo piano.

Time flies.