A Cellist and A Pianist Walk Into a Stage
Equestria was... unique, to say the least.
Of course, every world has something that made them stand out from their kin. This one, in particular, struck a chord in my heart.
Music.
Equestria is a heaven for music.
Ponies danced at sudden musical numbers, sang along at unplanned bursts of symphonies, and joined for improvised lyrics. Her Highness Twilight Sparkle told me that it was the ambient magic around, but I don't care. I don't need to care if it means I can randomly perform in front of an audience without a license. I don't need to care if it means Haydn wouldn't be the only one to perform literal miracles with music!
And these ponies, oh, ponies of Ponyville. Sang their heart out, they did. They spoke with utmost confidence without any trace of malice, without the misdirection and manipulation one would usually find in conversations.
"Hey, Ludwig!"
Ah, speak of the devil. "Good morning, Lyra. What's the occasion?"
The mint unicorn trotted next to me, her lyre floating in her magic. "Nothing. Just wanted to hang out, y' know?"
I raised an eyebrow. "... And?"
She grinned. "And maybe you can teach me the piano again?"
Such enthusiasm. I gave her a smile and a chuckle. "But of course, Miss, but not until noon, I'm afraid. I'm rather enjoying the morning breeze."
"Well, I can stick around and show you around the park. It's where I usually perform. Oh! Do you want me to—"
As Lyra stopped dead in her tracks, I followed suit and looked back at her worryingly. "Is anything wrong?"
If her frown was anything to go by, something was. When she didn't answer, I turned around and followed her gaze.
There, in the distance, was a grey mare with beautiful and bold black mane, sitting under the tree, looking down at her hooves as if mourning a dead man. Or pony.
"A friend of yours?" I asked Lyra.
"That's Octavia," she answered, "she's supposed to be in Canterlot now. There's going to be a competition between her ensemble and some other from... Prench, I think? It's in two days."
I frowned. "Octavia? I recall Mozart mentioning that name a couple of times. She's a cellist if I'm not mistaken."
Lyra finally moved again, this time toward the sullen mare. "Yes, she is. I should talk to her."
As we neared the tree, just before Octavia noticed our presence, Lyra's frown turned upside down, and her demeanor went from deeply concerned to annoyingly enthusiastic. "Hey, 'Tavi!" she shouted.
I flinched as my hearing aid rang and raped my ear. I didn't complain, though, and watched from the sidelines as Octavia glanced up, not even startled, and smiled.
"Good morning, Lyra," she answered and, just like that, her smile vanished.
Lyra's smile followed suit into the abyss. Sitting next to Octavia, she put a comforting hoof to her shoulder. "Is something wrong? Why are you here? I thought you're going on another one of those competitions?"
She sighed. "Well, until yesterday, I was. Now I'm just trying to accept that—" she choked a tear "—t-that my career is as good as gone now."
"What!? Why? 'Tavi, are you sick or something?"
"Well, no. Our pianist is. His chariot crashed, and he broke a hoof. Without him, we won't be able to compete and, when our competitor knows, they'll humiliate us in front of the Canterlot Elite." She sighed and continued, "Everypony knows that spells 'career end' in bold letters."
Well now, that's just wrong. Equestria is supposed to be a land of paradise! It's supposed to be a land where creatures alike sing and be happy together, not a place where competitions send you to a self-imposed exile out of Vienna!
"You're probably overthinking, 'Tavi. Have you talked with Vinyl yet?"
"Of course I have. She's the reason I'm here right now."
"Whatever your reason is, ma'am," I interrupted, and both pairs of eyes were on me. "Your story intrigued me. I may be able to help you."
She glanced up and noticed me for the first time. "Oh, pardon me, Sir, I didn't notice you earlier. And to your offer, I'm afraid I have to—"
"You're Octavia Melody, yes? Do you, by chance, know someone by the name of Mozart?"
She cocked her head. "Why, yes, I do. But—" her eyes bulged "—oh. Oh! You must be Beethoven!" She stood up and straightened up her tie. "Yes, Mozart is an acquaintance of mine. He spoke many things about you, Mr. Beethoven."
I smiled. "Only good things, I hope."
"Indeed, he spoke fondly of you."
My smile grew wider. "Now that you know who I am, Miss Octavia, would you reconsider my offer to help?"
Her frown returned, this time with curiosity instead of remorse, and said, "And what would this offer be, dear sir?"
"I'd call it a 'Professional Musician's Move'"
The foyer of Baron Fries' mansion was filled to the brim with both members of the Canterlot Elite and a few humans. Each of them mingling and chatting about, waiting for the perfect time to strike and climb up the social ladder while dodging verbal bullets from others alike. Mozart was among them, doing the same thing as the ponies and occasionally glanced at my direction, silently telling me to amuse him.
A familiar sight. Made more familiar was a particular human standing next to me.
"Once again I thank you, Steibelt," I said in a quiet tone. "It's been a while since we last met."
He smiled, and the bitterness in it left a terrible aftertaste inside my mouth. "Indeed it's been a while, Ludwig. You'd have to thank Mozart for convincing me about this."
"..."
"..."
"It's odd, don't you think?"
"That two ensembles chose us as their guests of honor to compete with each other? Yes, Steibelt. I think it is."
"Well, no matter how odd it might be, let us each do our best."
"But of course, Steibelt. May the best win."
"Of course I will, Ludwig."
"Funny."
Realizing our banter is over, a yellow unicorn that is our host, Baron Fries, stepped forward and greeted the eager guests. "Fillies and Gentlecolts! It is my honor to host tonight's competition of our beloved and well-known ensemble, The Harmony."
The guests gave applause as all attention was dragged to the group of three ponies, which smiled and waved. Octavia was among them, and her posture now a lot more confident than two days ago.
Baron Fries continued, "Tonight, The Harmony will meet more than their match, I believe. May I present the brilliant, the up to now unbeaten, all the way from Germane, Das Rosenholz!" After the guests cheered on the other group of three ponies, he continued, "Now, I must say that our show tonight won't be our usual.
"By suggestion from Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart and agreed by both competing sides, two guests of honor have been chosen to temporarily replace their respective pianists and lead the ensemble. It won't be easy, but isn't it what we need? A challenge like no other, to prove to the world that their skill goes beyond the scripted notes; to improvise and to create as beautiful a music on-the-go!
"Chosen by The Harmony is the legendary, the magnificent, Ludwig van Beethoven!"
All eyes landed on me. I smiled, waved, and stepped forward to join The Harmony.
"On the other side, chosen by Das Rosenholz, is another legend by his own name. He's dextrous, he's dashing, he's Daniel Steibelt!"
The Ball of Ego and Grudge smiled and raised his head high, stepping forward and joining Das Rosenholz on the piano. His ensemble followed suit, readying themselves on their respective instruments.
Steibelt began the symphony speedily, joined effortlessly by the harp and the cello, then the sousaphone. The symphony was fast, energetic, and exciting. The ensemble all kept their eyes on the musical sheet, but it was naught but a mere reference, as Steibelt's notes flew like a storm, quite a tangent to the original, and the improvisation was clearly over the roof.
He's clearly going all out on this.
Halfway through the symphony, I was taken by surprise as Steibelt completely skipped the bridge and directly into the final refrain, putting aside nearly a quarter of the entire symphony. His ensemble fumbled, but only a trained ear could notice it. As the guests were not, they stared at awe as the symphony ended in an abrupt thunder that stretched for a few seconds.
The guests cheered loudly, and the ensemble smiled smugly at us, proclaiming an early victory.
I heard a gulp. Looking beside me, Octavia was sweating, unnoticed by the guest standing too far away.
She looked at me worryingly.
I smiled reassuringly, and she relaxed, albeit just a little.
As Das Rosenholz put the instruments back, The Harmony took their place and readied ourselves.
I, on the other hand, walked towards Octavia and her cello. Looking at the few sheets of music the previous cellist forced to set aside, I smiled.
It was perfect.
Octavia shot me a questioning look as I took the parchment from her stand and asked, quietly, "What are you doing?"
Taking the part Steibelt skipped for the piano, I showed it to her side-by-side with its cello part. "This is astounding." Then I flipped them upside down. "This is perfection."
She gaped. A surprised one, but in a good way. She nodded, shot me an almost evil grin, and took the piano parchment, all the while making sure the guests—and Das Rosenholtz—could see it clearly.
We both showed our switched musical sheets to the guests, still upright, and flipped them upside down with a flourish, setting them up on the stands. The harp and sousaphone, meanwhile, nodded in understanding and kept their sheets upright.
I started the symphony slowly, as the parchment, and the harp and sousaphone followed with theirs—not upside down, still similar to the original. Octavia followed after a quarter of the sheet, dragging her bow long and slow, accompanied by me, while the harp and sousaphone played poco-a-poco.
When the harp started his crescendo, I and Octavia simultaneously joined in and dropped in a steeper crescendo, bringing in the storm.
Well, I digress. It wasn't a storm at all. It was a hurricane.
My fingers ran and danced through the keyboard, hitting highs and lows and trills, even managing to slip a glissando in the middle, somehow at sync with the harp's own.
Octavia was...
Octavia was enjoying the time of her life, taking the storm in stride and synchronizing with the rest of the ensemble.
Nearing the end of the symphony, the door of the mansion slammed shut. The guests looked at its direction, while we, knowing already what had happened, didn't flinch.
Unlike them, we finished our symphony with a trickle, ending in a decrescendo.
Looking up, I saw all I'd expected: The guests staring slack-jawed at us and, abruptly, stood and cheered. A stampede of applause thundered across the room, and The Harmony all bowed to the audience.
All I'd expected but for one: Steibelt, who by all chances didn't storm out of the room with Das Rosenholz, applauding.
As the applause died down, the guests crowded against The Harmony and me, bombarding us with words of appreciations and somethings along the line of 'awesome'.
I made a beeline toward Steibelt and, reaching him, stretched out my hand. "I must say, you surprised me, Steibelt. Not going to exile yourself out of Canterlot this time?"
He took my hand and shook it, all the while still frowning. "I should've known better," he said, his tone one of acceptance. "And no, my ego isn't big enough to make me leave this beautiful city forever."
I smiled at him and wrapped my arm around his neck. "Don't be like that, Steibelt! Come on, the drinks are on me."
"The drinks are free around here."
"..."
"And I'm holding one in my hand right now."
"I'll teach you how to play the piano, then."
"I would've flipped my finger at you if you haven't already flipped my sheet."
And that, Fillies and Gentlecolts, is how I and Octavia flipped sheets.
