The Sweetest Music

The Sweetest Music

Chapter Twenty

Riding with the King

***

Lyra wasn't sure if Alexandro Philarmonico was glad to see them - or, her, at least - but it seemed that he was at least interested in it, judging by the way he greeted the mares in a spacious dining room, and the way his old eyes flickered a little as the black unicorn stallion with greying hair smoked his long, sourly sweet cigar. Lyra was somewhat glad that it wasn't an office or a study; dining rooms seemed cosier to her, if only a little.

"Lyra, my filly, how much you have grown!" Alexandro tsked, shaking his head as he sipped on a fine brandy - a gesture that made him look even older. Though, it wasn't that bad - at least for stallions; or, at least, for stallions of his complexion: if anything, it made him seem only wiser in Lyra's - and probably other ponies' - eyes. "I haven't seen you in years." He tapped his hoof against the table. "How have you been?"

"Fine, thank you," Lyra replied immediately. Honesty was a good policy - sometimes - but with Alexandro Philarmonico, one also had to remember to be polite; as with all of those who hold power. Never complain and never ask until the moment they wonder about your troubles themselves - or unless they wonder about that. Lyra didn't ask the same question back. Alexandro was the host. Being polite, Lyra. Being real polite here, remember that.

"What's your drink of choice?" the stallion asked Lyra as another black-suited pony entered the dining hall, standing next to the two near-identical security stallions. Lyra struggled to muffle the screaming similarity between these and police ponies that was threatening to seize her mind.

"If you offer me a whisky, I'll have a whisky."

Alexandro chuckled, nodding at the just-arrived stallion and placing his own glass on the tray that seemed to have mysetriously appeared on the table in the matter of mere seconds. Though, with his means, it would be well possible, Lyra mused, eyeing the bronze ashtray. "And what will you be having, Miss..?"

"Bon-Bon," the cream-coloured mare supplied. She wanted to add "Just Bon-Bon", but was too wary and cautious - maybe even terrified; despite being impressed (or maybe in spite of it?) - of the black stallion to say that aloud. Let him call her Miss - if he wants to. "I- I don't really want to infringe on - upon - your hospitality..." Bon-Bon began, almost shivering - shaking - gulping - she was actually gulping in fear, wasn't she? - but a well-placed, soft kick from her mare under the table made her amend, "But I wouldn't mind a glass of wine." She let out a weak smile which grew more genuine - if it was possible - ever possible - in the wake of Alexandro's own smile. This was her mare's business, and she just had to tag along and support her. Because that's what marefriends do, right?

The marefia boss nodded at the suited stallion, who disappeared immediately. "I would offer you dinner, but I assume that you have come to discuss something with me, am I right?" Lyra nodded. Bon-Bon blinked dumbly. "Back where I'm from, it is considered impolite to discuss business at dinner table," he explained, seeing the confectioner's confusion. "Hence no dinner. Yet."

Lyra lit up a cigarette, levitating a small glass ashtray towards herself, not before having taken a questioning glance at Alexandro, who wordlessly permitted the action. "You are right, senor Philarmonico." The mint mare nodded.

"Just Alexandro, Lyra." The older stallion put out his cigar. "I've known you since you were a filly."

Lyra sighed with a tiny smile. Yes, embarrass me before my marefr... totally-not-marefriend-while-we're-here. "I did come to discuss something." She paused. "I don't know where to begin. So much has happened, and I don't know how to... Well, I don't know how," Lyra wrapped up lamely.

Alexandro just smiled his fatherly smile. Lyra couldn't make out whether this smile reminded her of her father and thus was offensive or differed from it greatly and thus was comforting. "Then maybe you'd like to begin ab ovo, from the very beginning?"

Yes, because apparently, there's a beginning. Lyra was too tired for thoughts. But she didn't choose them - they chose her. Right? The mare tried to think of a decent starting point. An idea entered her mind.

Lyra chuckled a little. "You know, a few days ago - a few weeks already, probably - I almost got killed by a falling bottle..."

***

Lyra puffed on her cigarette. She had never noticed how fast time was moving. It had been what - half an hour? - and the room already fell silent. She looked at the empty whisky glass. She had told her part of the story - save for the truth about her and Bon-Bon, of course - and Alexandro, in return, told his part. He gave answers.

The mint mare looked at Bon-Bon sipping her Scoltcilian wine in silence. What was she thinking? Did it even matter? Now that she had the answers - the truth, or, at least, what she could consider to be truth - something to believe in, something that she could believe in - what was there to do?

There had been a terrorist attack, presumably conducted by the griffins - at least that's what Alexadnro said his sources could confirm. Are they planning a damn war? Lyra mused to herself, genuinely astonished by how the griffins were acting towards Equestria and why the government hadn't taken austere measures. They're just so busy hunting down gay ponies and tax-escapees.

Her mother had "most certainly" died in the attack: "a terrible, terrible tragedy, my dear, I would have told you at once, but I thought you already knew and I did not want to stab an open wound." What now? Where were the tears? Why aren't I crying, dammit? Where was the grief and the sorrow? There was no more dibelief - there could be no disbelief. Or could there?

Alexandro levitated a vinyl record onto an old gramophone, placing the needle on the record gently. Soft pizzicato sounds of a cello reached the mares' ears, soon followed by a tranquil, soothing cello melody. It was haunting, chillding, evocative, reminding, reminiscing - all in itself. Bon-Bon felt a tear crawl down her cheek.

Lyra only felt calm serenity washing over her. There were no tears. Why didn't she cry, for Celestia's sake? Why wasn't she crying, even with the help of music - the divine cello music - the essence that can make the very soul cry? Even if she wanted to - could want to - cry, it was because of the sombre undertones to the melody, and not because of the adversity to the realisation of which she had come.

"That's my daughter performing the solo cello," Alexandro said with a hint of pride: a well-concealed one, for, the remark was presumably aimed at Lyra to help divert her from the terrible news that he had delivered. "I have just got the record delivered from Manehattan."

Lyra nodded. Bon-Bon repeated the motion. "It's beautiful, sen- Alexandro," the cream-coloured mare corrected herself.

"I guess I'll just have to go. Sign the papers. Come into inheritance," Lyra said with a sour, bland acceptance. "Thank you, Alexandro." So, she would just return to Ponyville. Maybe sell the estate - no, she wouldn't be able to bring herself to do that. Just live off the fortune she'd have inherited, and live with Bon-Bon together in Ponyville. Wasn't it what she wanted, though?

"I can offer you the services of one of my lawyers," Alexandro suggested. "It's the least I could do."

"Thank you," Lyra replied, "But I think Discreet Heart will do his job just fine." Slimy as he is.

For a moment, Alexandro's face was perfectly calm, absolutely devoid of any emotion. But then his eye twitched a little - just a little - but enough to get - be - noticed. "Discreet Heart. A Canterlot lawyer, brown earth pony stallion, beige mane?" Lyra nodded to every clarification. Alexandro leaned in a little, his eyes radiating steel. "I have interest in him." Lyra gulped. "Can you arrange a meeting with him, say, in three days, two in the afternoon, at Archie's? I will take care of the rest." Lyra opened her mouth to speak. "Of course you will be rewarded," the stallion hurried to add - the very point that was unnecessary for either Lyra or Bon-Bon, in this case. Or any case, probably. "I know that Miss Bon-Bon has been struggling with her sweets store in Ponyville, did I get that right from your explanation?" Bon-Bon couldn't help but nod almost imperceptibly. "And you, Lyra, I know, never liked paperwork. So, in three days time, wouldn't it be a marvel if you got a license to run a chain of sweets stores all around the country - and you, Lyra, got to run your very own recording label?" My... own... This seemed like a ridiculous, crazy dream. "Of course, officially, I will be the owner of the label - the taxes would be too outrageous to put on your shoulders."

"Alexandro, we really appreciate that, but-" Lyra began, basically vocalising Bon-Bon's very thoughts, but was swiftly interrupted by the stallion.

"No, Lyra, you didn't quite understand me. We are making a deal here, on my terms, which, if I may say, are very convenient for both parties. You will get the license and the label, and I will get that appointment with Discreet Heart. Tom, my son, will personally draft the necessary papers - including those regarding your inheritance - and you will move to Los Pegasus."

"What?" Lyra didn't even bother to hide her shock, and, well, mild disgust, fuelled by disapproval. Bon-Bon proved to be  calmer, just chewing on the inside of her bottom lip almost invisibly.

"You will be safer in one of the blocks of flats I own - in the city one of my companies is pretty much building up right now. Los Pegasus, Coltifornia. As far as I get it, you are already flatmates, so it won't be a problem. You could also just refurnish the flat as you wish. Besides, it will be close to the label, which is located in Los Pegasus. This is why you are moving there."

We "are" moving there, Lyra thought bitterly. On one hoof, the opportunities were golden - even if, maybe, she didn't really want them - but on the other hoof, they didn't get to choose. The situation reminded her of her grandfather's habits: always deciding for the others. But this was Alexandro's way, and he decided that it was fair. And you don't really argue with a marefia boss.

"Thank you, Alexandro," was all that Lyra could say. And so she did. And so did Bon-Bon. They rose from their seats.

"I am very glad we are both satisfied with the outcome. Please make the necessary arrangements upon arriving in Canterlot, and I will, on my side, prepare all the papers so you can sign them and pick them up when you drop by on your way to Los Pegasus." His tone carried a hint of satisfaction - the kind of satisfaction one has when they have drafted a plan that they know will be successful. "I can't offer you accomodation - noblesse oblige, and I have a lot of work here - but I can book you tickets." He tapped his hoof against the table, rapping out into nothingness, "Two tickets to Canterlot. Earliest train. First class."

Maybe it's for the better, Lyra thought as she shook the black hoof. After all, she didn't really like Discreet Heart. He could, after all, enquire into whether she and Bon-Bon were just flatmates or something greater. Lawyers were sneaky like that. And, since Alexandro was after Discreet Heart... Well, bad day for Discreet Heart, then.

"Are you going to kill him?" Bon-Bon finally blurted out in a gasp, dread overcoming her as she realised what she had just said and to whom she had just said that. Lyra's blood ran cold for a moment.

However, Alexandro seemed to be merciful. "I am after Discreet Heart. Have been for years. Killing him would be meaningless, and torture isn't my way." The stallion smiled. "You see, I have a friend in Canterlot who will love to see him at the time we have decided you will assign for him. He likes law too - a lot, in fact." Alexandro laughed the laugh of a middle-aged stallion growing old.

"He is a tax inspector."