My dearest,

I am sorry. For all of the pain I have caused you, due to my disappearance. My sudden departure was not because of you or our child, but of other circumstances which I cannot speak of. You won’t understand my predicament, but I pray that both of you will find it in your hearts to forgive me. I wish I could comfort you with the promise of my return. But if I were to make that promise, I would be lying, giving you a false hope which would only do you further harm.

My dearest Madrigal, I plead with you; Always remember that I love you both with my entire heart and soul.
Please, give my cello to our child. I know she will be magnificent.

- Morendo

Tuning Blade

The auditorium filled with clapping hooves and cheerful whistles as the orchestra’s performance came to a close.

Putting her bow at her side, Octavia held her cello close and bowed along with the rest of the orchestra as the audience continued their applause. She bore a face of emotionless focus during the length of her star performance. Now, Octavia couldn’t help but grin happily as ponies tossed colorful flowers on stage.

It was her first show as part of the Trottingham Orchestra, a position Octavia had acquired through her hard work. It was yet another step towards achieving her dream; becoming lead cellist in Canterlot’s esteemed Ninth Symphony. The very same dream she had as a filly.

That dream would only come with patience. For now, Octavia’s place was in Trottingham.

The red curtains closed on the orchestra, blocking the bright lights and signaling for the musicians to pack up. Octavia sighed with accomplishment and carried her cello backstage, gently placing it within its case. After quickly fussing with her pink bowtie, she entered the theatre’s lobby.

A crowd of ponies leaving the auditorium lingered, mingling with themselves and some of the emerging musicians. A stallion instantly took notice of Octavia and approached, with others tailing behind him. Their elegant clothes were suited for the noble and wealthy, but they seemed a tad excessive. The Canterlot elite were the wealthiest in Equestria and they never wore anything more than a frilly hat or vest.

“Excuse me!” said the first stallion as he removed his top hat with courtesy, “I must say, you are quite the astounding cellist! My cohorts and I were enthralled by your performance, as well as the rest of the musicians of course. The solo you performed during Earth was simply marvelous.”

Octavia shook the stallion’s hoof graciously.

“Thank you. It was honor to perform for this city.”

“An honor indeed. It’s wonderful to be able to have a Heartland pony share her talent with the Fringe. Livens things up, yes? Have a goodnight.” Said the stallion. He and the other noble ponies returned to their mingling.

Octavia nodded to them as they left. A successful first night, she thought. I can’t wait to tell mum about this.

“Octavia!” Another pony approached, a familiar mare from the orchestra named Keyes, “Some of the old-timers are offering us a tour of the city! You wanna come?”

“Oh, uhmm… isn’t it rather late?” Octavia grimaced in the most polite way possible.

“Aw c’mon Octavia, come have some fun! You deserve to cool off from playing and practicing all the time, at the very least.” Keyes insisted. She almost sounded like Vinyl Scratch, though with much less noise.

Octavia conceded. “Very well. Lead the way.”

Octavia stepped outside. A gush of cool air brushed along her grey coat, lifting a side of her black mane over itself. Octavia put a hoof to her mane to press it back into shape as she joined Keyes and the other musicians in their walk downtown.

Along the way they marveled at the old yet beautiful Tudor style buildings of Trottingham, all graced by the pale light of vintage lampposts from another era. The city was adorned with stone monuments, some dating back to the city’s founding. Octavia couldn’t help but admire the style of the timber-framed cottages and brick-laid manors.

Perhaps one of the most notable differences of Trottingham was the ponies who lived there. Nearly all of the citizens wore some type or set of clothing or garments when going about their business, even during their nighttime outings. It was a big change from the Heartland, where such fashions were still reserved only for grand events. Seeing the native ponies only made Octavia aware of how much she and some of her friends stood out being unclad, discounting bowties of course. The older members of the orchestra, who had lived in Trottingham before, explained that it wasn’t seen as unacceptable for them to be clothing-less. It was more like a tourist’s mark, but they would get used to it.

Continuing to explore at the head of the pack, Keyes stopped everypony to point out a nearby watering hole, labeled ‘The Phoenix Tavern’, which another older member noted as being one of the best pubs in the city. The majority of the group immediately decided to head inside, hoping to indulge in the best drinks Trottingham could offer.

Octavia pushed open the creaky door, joining the others at the large table they had found. Already mugs of apple cider were being passed around, bringing grins and hearty laughs. One mug found its way into Octavia’s hooves, passed down to her by Keyes.

Sitting peacefully as she listened to the many stories and adventures of her fellow musicians, Octavia gently took a whiff of her cider. It carried a heavy and sweet musk, as most hard cider did. She wasn’t surprised. With how the world was going, most towns on the Fringe preferred to have more substance in their drinks.

Had she been given the choice, Octavia would have preferred a glass of wine or champaign, but the cider would do. It was strong enough to help ease her mind, which had been caught in bad memories as of late. Even now, as she zoned out from the cheery tales being told around her, Octavia dwelled on Trottingham. Though she had met many new ponies and was thrilled to be a part of the culture of the historic city, Octavia resented every moment of her stay. Her thoughts prompted her to take a huge swig of her mug, downing nearly all of her cider in one go.

As the night wore on, two more emptied mugs sat beside Octavia. Payment wasn’t an issue, as somepony in the group mentioned getting the tab. Only more reason to keep going. Maybe she could just pass out here and not have to go ‘home’ right away. Or whatever her living space could be called. Anything but ‘home’.

Before she could hail a tender for another round, Octavia’s chair nudged forward. She turned around, noticing the bump had come from a unicorn mare carrying a sheepish smile. The mare had a darkened slate-blue coat, and bright blue eyes which were covered slightly by her orange mane. She wore a short, crimson vest, lined on the side with bright golden buttons and completed with a white cloth wrapped around her neck. A white sash circled the middle of her waist, and her flanks bore a cutie mark of a short telescope.

“Octavia Stradivarius?” asked the mare, gasping a bit before her sentence.

“Yes? How can I help you?” replied Octavia.

“Oh wow! I just wanted to say that I really, really love your music! I have a friend who told me about some of the pieces you’ve done. When I heard you’d be in Trottingham, I just had to come to see you perform! I’m Ebony, by the way. It’s a pleasure to meet you!”

A look of subtle astonishment appeared on Octavia’s face. She had never made a huge impression musically in most of the towns she had played in, until now. Nevertheless, Octavia was delighted to have met a fan so quickly after her recent performance.

“I’m grateful that you are a fan of my work, Ebony. And it’s a pleasure to meet you as well! Would you care to sit?” Octavia motioned to an empty chair beside her, prompting her new friend to join.

As the night progressed and the celebrations slowed, Octavia and Ebony conversed with each other over music and other topics. Most of the tavern had grown quiet, apart from the occasional snoring from those who had one too many drinks.

Ebony held a mug in her hoof as she sat beside Octavia, though she hadn’t take more than a few sips. Octavia had stopped at her third some time ago, but it was enough to make her feel more exhausted than she wanted to be.

“So, you’re from Ponyville, right? Are you… staying with any relatives here in Trottingham, or…?” asked Ebony. The tone in her voice shifted somehow with her question, but Octavia didn’t notice.

“I’m sorry, what… Oh! Oh, yes, well… I’m staying at a house that my father…” Octavia paused her own tone dropping onto a much more serious level, “… that my father used to own. The…precise word there being ‘used to’. No, wait... precise two words.”

“Used to?” Ebony echoed.

Octavia frowned, locking her eyes onto one of the empty mugs on the table. Her stare showed a pain which had been with her for a long time.

“…My father passed away a few years ago. His home has gone into the family’s care since, and we’ve kept it primarily the way it was left.” Octavia said, stammering at some of her words. Ebony took notice.

“I’m sorry, Octavia, I hope I’m not prying—”

“No, no, don’t be sorry. Please don’t be sorry. To be utterly honest with you, I never liked my father. In fact I rather despise him. He simply left my mother one day while I was still a foal, without any kind of goodbye or explanation as to why he left, not even a letter. He broke my mother’s heart… And now I’m living in his house…. The very same house that bastard used to live in since the day he abandoned his own family!!!”

WHAM!

Octavia’s hoof slammed onto the table, rattling nearly all of the ponies nearby.

The tavern fell utterly silent, growing even more quiet than it had been only moments ago. Octavia’s anger subsided as she noticed the shock and worry on Ebony’s face.

“You ok, Octavia?” asked Keyes, coming from the other end of the table.

“I’m…yes, I’m fine. I’m sorry, I think I should go. It’s getting late.” Octavia replied as she lifted herself out of her chair. She did her best to breathe deeply.

Keyes frowned, “Do you need help getting back home?”

“No, I’ll be ok, I’m not that trashed.”

“Are you sure? I could go with you if you’d like.” Ebony interjected.

Octavia declined, rubbing a hoof on her forehead.

“I’m sure I’ll be ok. It was nice to have met you, Ebony. And thank you, Keyes, for inviting me. I had fun.” Octavia said, cracking a weak smile at her friends before exiting the tavern.

A beautiful and glowing full moon hung above the city as Octavia walked along the street, her hooves making a resounding clop with each step. She kept her eyes on the tiled ground, her thoughts still stuck on her outburst back in the tavern. The image of how rude her demeanor was caught her attention, preventing her from noticing that the tiles beneath her hooves had turned into street-paved stone.

“WATCH OUT!!”

The warning from the carriage pony startled Octavia so much that her legs froze in place. The only thought in Octavia’s mind told her to brace herself, and she did just that as the carriage failed to slow down.

However, instead of feeling the massive force of a horse-drawn carriage crash into her, Octavia felt a push from the side as an unknown pony tackled her out of the way of the carriage just as it sped by. Shook up a bit, Octavia looked up at the stallion holding her.

“Are you alright? It’s a good thing I turned that corner, otherwise you might be flattened on the street right now.” Said the stallion rather jokingly as he helped Octavia off the ground.

The pegasus stallion was an average looking fellow. An earthy-green coat of fur covered him, along with a tan mane and tail, styled nicely though with little complexities. His grey eyes seemed to almost reflect the moonlight. His officer’s coat covered his cutie mark.

“I-I’m fine…agh.” Octavia replied, faltering as she attempted to get up. The stallion made sure she didn’t fall again.

“Careful now, you don’t want to be tripping over yourself around here at night. Or walk in front of another carriage. Why don’t you let this nightwatch officer escort you home?”

The officer’s words struck some sense into Octavia, convincing her to take his offer. It was the best option, considering she couldn’t even remember which direction she was heading anymore.

“Oof… I’d appreciate it if you would, officer.”

The stallion gave her a smile and a nod of approval, letting Octavia lead the way as they head in the direction of home.

“My name’s Pledge by the way. And you?”

“Octavia.”

“Octavia? What a lovely name…”

Pledge and Octavia arrived at the latter’s place of residence. At least, that’s what Octavia would call it. Her sense of respectfulness prevented her from naming the small house something more vulgar. The respect was more for its architects of the past, than its previous owner.

Having regained some clarity and balance during their walk, Octavia turned to Pledge as she stood atop the step leading to the house’s bright blue door.

“I, ah… never got to properly thank you for before, Pledge. Thank you for saving me. And thank you for helping me get home.” Said Octavia, her eyes beginning to droop as she did her best to smile in gratitude.

“It was the least I could do, miss Octavia. If you ever need any help in the future, I’d be more than happy to oblige. Have a good night’s rest, miss Octavia.” Pledge replied with a heart-felt grin as he trotted off into the night, turning around the nearby corner. The sound of his hooves against the tiled walkway dissipated, before ending with a flap of wings.

Octavia entered the door and headed straight for the nearest couch, falling face first onto the cushions.

A resonance of chirping birds and rustling leaves reached Octavia’s ears as her eyes slowly opened. With a groan, she pushed herself up off the couch and rubbed her head with her hoof, taking off her mangled bowtie as well and placing it on the living room table.

Having a fuzzy memory of the night before, Octavia let out a sigh as she made her way to the kitchen. Not being in the mood to prepare an elaborate or exotic breakfast, Octavia settled with a slice of toast lathered with honey. She took the plate of breakfast in her mouth, leaving the kitchen and settling in the house’s study room across from the living room.

The study room had an entire wall lined with rows and shelves of books that her father once used to own. There was a foreboding air within the study, one that exuded history and knowledge, yet it felt like a blank page to Octavia. Had her father actually stayed in her life,
Octavia would have appreciated all the books before her, but right now they meant nothing. They were just old books.

After placing her plate down and taking a bite of her toast, Octavia examined a few of the shelves closest to her, thinking she might find something interesting to read while she ate. True to her father’s former profession of being an artisan and crafter of stringed instruments, many of the books on the shelf related to music theory or crafting techniques. Octavia had read many similar books, and proceeded to skip over to the next shelf. However, one book caught her eye; a blue book with a title on the spine.

‘A Study of Equestrian Artifacts and Archaeology’… How peculiar, Octavia thought as she pulled the book carefully out of its place on the shelf, wiping a bit of dust off of the cover.

It was strange indeed that a book on archaeology no less was tucked in with music books. Octavia took another glance at where the book’s spot on the shelf, and was puzzled to find a crumpled and half-bent piece of paper pushed up against the back end of the wooden shelf. Placing the blue book down by her toast, Octavia reached in and pulled out the paper. It was severely torn at one end, suggesting that it was pulled from another book or perhaps a notebook. Octavia imagined that her father was in a hurry or just being clumsy when he had put the book back in the shelf, not noticing the paper caught underneath.

Octavia unfolded the paper and straightened it out as best she could. On the very top was her father’s name; Morendo Stradivarius. She looked further down and began to read the paper.

What was before her on this mangled paper was nothing short of bizarre. Of the words that were still legible, Octavia made out ramblings of an ‘artifact’ that her father was examining, more specifically some kind of old chest. Trying to make out the remainder of the document was fruitless, as some words were smeared or simply too elaborately written in a hoof writing that was very unfamiliar to Octavia.

Towards the lower half of the paper were two symbols. One of them resembled a capital ‘A’, though the horizontal line was missing, instead having a line on the bottom of the ‘A’ curved slightly upward. It looks more and more like a hood, or perhaps an angled teardrop. The other symbol seemed simpler; A cross, with the end of each of the lines making up the cross fanned outward. The symbols were drawn right next to each other, though their designs contrasted one another in a way Octavia couldn’t quite describe.

What was my father doing with his time here? This all seems rather strange. Perhaps it’s about time I started learning more about him... Perhaps I can finally uncover why he left, thought Octavia as she folded the paper as neatly as possible.

Finishing her breakfast and putting her father’s document in a saddle pouch along with other belongings for the day, Octavia left the house and made her way to the city auditorium to retrieve her cello. There was hardly a cloud in the sky as the sun shined brightly, cloaking the city in rays of yellow sunlight. Octavia took a moment to allow her eyes to adjust to the morning light before heading off.

She soon arrived at the front of the auditorium, but before she walked up the stone steps, Octavia spotted a familiar mare along the sidewalk, who noticed her in turn.

“Hi Octavia!” Ebony exclaimed as she gallops over to Octavia.

“Hello, Ebony. It’s good to see you! Please, let me apologize for my rudeness last night.” Stated Octavia, smiling sheepishly.

Ebony waved a hoof at her in assurance. “Don’t worry about it, Octavia. Stuff like that happens to every pony at some point. So what are you up to today?”

“I was just going to pick up my cello from the auditorium, as I had left it there the previous night. I—,” Octavia paused as a thought crossed her mind. “Ebony… do you mind… helping me with something?”

“Sure thing! What do you need?”

“Take a look at these symbols here,” Octavia pulled out her father’s paper and revealed the symbols to Ebony, “Are you familiar with them? Do you have any clue as to what they are or what they mean?”

Ebony squinted hard at both the symbols, putting a hoof to her lip. “Hmmmm… Well, I’m not exactly sure… I’ve never really seen an ‘A’ or a cross like this… Oh! Oh! Wait, that’s right! I’ve seen similar symbols in a book I’ve read before. I’m friends with a pony in Vanhoover who studies rare stuff, like symbols, books, antiques, anything that is hard to find. I saw these symbols on one of his books! He might be able to help explain what they are.”

Octavia looked at the symbols herself for a second, then returned her eyes to Ebony.

“Well, that’s better than nothing. Ebony, forgive me if I’m asking too much of you, but could you take me to this friend of yours?”
“You’re a lucky mare, Octavia! I’m leaving for Vanhoover today actually! I’d be more than happy to take you along. Would you be ready to leave today though? Or would you need a day or two to get ready?” Pondered Ebony, after doing a tiny hop of excitement.

“I don’t have that much with me here in Trottingham. Let me get my cello and bring it back home. I can make an arrangement with my conductor in the orchestra to give me leave for a few days. We can leave today.” Octavia said as she placed the document within her saddle pouch.

“Great! Meet me at the train station this evening when you’re ready. Vanhoover is almost a day’s worth away, though the cars have resting quarters, so can catch some sleep along the way. See you then!” Ebony grinned as she turns and trotted away, disappearing into a crowd of ponies.

It seems as though I’ll be in for an adventure yet. I hope this will be worth it, Octavia thought as she stood for a moment in front of the auditorium.

Deep in thought, she began to feel her coat warm up from the sun’s rays, which prompted her to proceed inside the auditorium. She made her way to the warm up room and found her cello where she left it. Now, with her cello strapped on to her, Octavia showed a look of determination as she made her way back home to prepare for her coming journey to Vanhoover, and to uncovering more about the mysterious life of her father.

Author's Note

Just a note; I know that Octavia's official name is Octavia Melody, but I thought it would be interesting and unique to give her a different surname. I chose the name Stradivarius. For those who are curious; Stradivarius is the term used to label any stringed instrument (cellos included=]) crafted by the Italian artisan Antonio Stradivari. These specifically crafted instruments are the rarest and most valued instruments ever created, and when I heard the term I thought it would fit nicely for a pony like Octavia. =]