—— Last day of the double vote — begging for monthly votes.
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"Brunz" had once been the estate of Natasha, the Countess of Violet. Her coachman was no worse than the one at Phyllis's "Bernie" estate, and the carriage glided smoothly through the crowded streets of Altor, heading toward the Musicians' Association in the Administrative District, without allowing Lucian to feel even the slightest jolt inside the cabin.
"Altor has become so lively." Through the half-open carriage window, Lucian sensed a level of hustle and bustle he had never experienced before in Altor. The crowds lining the broad avenue were several times denser than usual for this hour.
And on the avenue itself, he could see many unfamiliar carriages. The coats of arms emblazoned on their sides were ones Lucian didn't recognize. "That's the crest of Count Tarlan from the Holy Helz Empire — and that's Baron of the White Maple Forest from the Kingdom of Syracuse… Heh, I could practically pass as a heraldic scholar."
Natasha's study contained books dedicated entirely to noble heraldry, and such volumes occupied a significant portion of her shelves. So although Lucian had never read them cover to cover, his formidable memory and cross-referencing ability meant he could identify most of the common crests.
Glancing at these carriages with their faintly exotic air, Lucian shifted his attention back to both sides of the avenue, where bards and street performers could be spotted every dozen meters or so.
"Uncle Joel?" Lucian suddenly spotted Joel at a street corner, cheerfully strumming an "Ur" lap harp. Though he was missing two fingers on his left hand, that didn't hinder him from playing ordinary tunes on this simple instrument.
Lucian told the coachman to pull over to the curb, then walked over to Joel and stood beside him with a smile, quietly listening as he finished playing a passionate and romantic serenade.
Passersby all around them cheered and applauded, and some tossed copper nars into the hat placed before Joel.
But not a single one of them recognized that the quiet young man standing nearby with a gentle smile was the very same musical genius they had all been talking about.
After finishing, Joel said to Lucian with a wry grin: "It's miserable sitting at home with nothing to do for too long."
Thanks to John earning Sir Vein's favor, and Lucian finding various excuses to look after them, Joel and Elisa could live quite comfortably even without working.
Lucian didn't find Joel embarrassing in the slightest: "I can see you're genuinely happy, Uncle Joel. Being able to simply enjoy the pleasure that music brings is a beautiful thing." Joel hadn't given the copper nars in his hat so much as a glance.
"That's right. The arrival of the Altor Music Festival has rekindled my passion, so I've taken to the streets again — but not to make a living this time." Joel was even happier to have Lucian's understanding. "It feels like I've gone back to the past — to when I'd first arrived in Altor, brimming with musical dreams and a pure devotion to music, just like them. After all these years, I've finally found that feeling again." He gestured toward the unfamiliar bards and street performers nearby.
They were nothing like the ones who had been in Altor for a long time. Every one of them was earnestly performing their pieces for passersby, showcasing their voices, hoping not for money but for appreciation and recognition.
Lucian genuinely loved this kind of simple beauty: "Seeing them lifts my spirits too."
"That's exactly why I love the Altor Music Festival." Joel let out a hearty laugh, then picked up the seven-stringed "Ur" lap harp and began playing a gentle, melodious piece.
Lucian watched him, immersed in his dreamy musical world, and didn't interrupt. After standing quietly for a while, he strolled around nearby, enjoying the performances of the bards and street artists, occasionally tossing out a few copper nars as a show of appreciation. Having spent so much time holed up at home dissecting arcane magic, Lucian had grown rather nostalgic for this kind of vibrant, bustling scene.
And from the music of different flavors that these performers brought from their various countries, Lucian was absorbing their finest elements, refining a piece of music he was composing.
This particular piece wasn't plagiarism on Lucian's part — rather, it was an adaptation of a "Violin Sonata in G Minor," a work of extreme difficulty in this world. Lucian had arranged it for piano, making considerable modifications and adjustments to the rhythm, dynamics, and tempo, all with the aim of delivering a show-stopping virtuoso performance at his concert.
Since no piece on Earth bore a close resemblance to this sonata, Lucian had worked through the adaptation entirely on his own — it could truly be called his own arrangement. No matter what, in what might be his first and last concert performance in this life, Lucian still wanted there to be something that was truly his.
As he strolled along the street, Lucian discovered that he had genuinely grown fond of this vibrant city. The drifting, melodious music, the passionate, flourishing scenes — it was all so beautiful. "If only the Church weren't here."
"Sir, would you like to come hear our concert? It's free!" Suddenly, a young man of about twenty dashed up from the side, earnestly inviting Lucian. His green eyes brimmed with enthusiasm and hope.
Lucian asked, puzzled: "A concert?"
"Yes, sir! We've rented a large house on the street to hold a concert — everyone's invited to listen for free!" The brown-haired young man with tousled curls spoke at breakneck speed. "Oh, right — I'm Piola, the first violinist of the orchestra. Would you like to come?"
Lucian happened to be planning to wander around and listen to things before two o'clock, so he smiled and nodded: "Where is it?"
Piola let out a cheer: "Our thirtieth listener!"
Then he led Lucian down a side street and into the ground-floor hall of a two-story commoner's house.