—The third release might have to wait until after midnight. Oh right, I've adjusted the map; it should be clearer now. Please vote with whatever spare tickets you have~
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Facing this symphony unlike anything they had heard before, the musicians inevitably felt a subconscious urge to resist, searching for signs of rebellion and roughness in the work. But the composer of this piece was Lucian Evans — one of the most renowned top-tier musicians, a genius celebrated for revolution and innovation. And so they all held a deep sense of reverence; even as rejection and discomfort welled up inside them, they listened with earnest focus.
Gradually, most of the musicians who were not native to Altor were swept up by the passionate, surging waves and the tense, urgent melodies, as though they had returned to the life they had known upon first arriving in Altor.
It had been a life of busyness and fast pace — every day spent rushing about, doing the heavy, inescapable work of trying to get hired by an orchestra or to hold small concerts. During what little leisure time they had, they threw themselves recklessly into music, either tearing their hair out over a melody or enduring the pain in their hands to practice again and again. The weight of reality had already been crushing them breathless; only within the atmosphere of music could they find a sliver of peace!
And then they heard something entirely new — melodies unlike any familiar style they had encountered before, drawn from other nations, from the folk legends and customs of distant places. This revealed an entirely new "world of music," bringing them an indescribable shock, much like the one they had experienced years ago when they first came to Altor and, amid their exhausting daily lives, suddenly encountered Altor's music. Its style, so utterly different from the music of their hometowns, had broadened their horizons and allowed them to rediscover music all over again.
Christoff's furrowed brow slowly smoothed as memories of the past flooded back.
He had left his small hometown with dreams of music, traveling half the way and performing half the way until he reached Altor. But Altor was so prosperous, and there were so many musicians and performers that without extraordinary talent and masterful technique, it was nearly impossible to make a living there.
So, to survive, he had been forced to work as a street performer, relying on the small coins passersby tossed him after his performances to fill his stomach. At night, he would crazily absorb Altor's musical composition philosophy — so utterly different from that of his small hometown — and every penny he had scrimped and saved went straight into the bottomless pit of learning to read and borrowing books.
It was in the midst of this busy, heavy, fast-paced life that he had, by chance, encountered Mr. Lessing, who opened a new door for him — a door leading to the tightly structured symphony.
At that time, he had been utterly stunned, like a traveler who had arrived in an entirely new country and beheld a world of utterly different sights.
"Lucian's music perfectly embodies his own experience — overcoming hardship, traveling to a new land, encountering new music, and becoming swept up with passion." Christoff abandoned the stubborn prejudices that had previously surfaced in his heart and offered this fair-minded assessment from within.
Immediately after, the full orchestra launched into a majestic, passionate melody that surged like a tide, after which the two secondary themes were presented in turn. Played by the flute, the oboe, and the flute respectively, they carried a faint tinge of melancholy and sentimentality, painting the wistfulness that Christoff and the others had felt amid the busyness of those early days.
Next, the innovations in structure gave every musician a different sensation, and it was only when the first movement concluded that they realized the recapitulation had been arranged in a uniquely original way — it did not truly begin until after several dramatic turns and delays.
Most of the nobility inside the Sacred Hymn Hall and the ordinary citizens in the municipal square did not share the musicians' exacting demands for structural rigor. Though they too felt this symphony was somewhat different from what they had heard in the past — and as residents of the City of Music, many seasoned enthusiasts could even pinpoint where it deviated from convention — they unanimously agreed that it was a beautiful work, well above average.
They were simply listening with their ears, listening with their hearts.
After a brief pause, Lucian raised his baton once more, his eyes closing slightly as though he had been lost in the music.
The melody was distant, the colors muted. After the orchestra played a few mysterious chords in the low register, a brooding, enigmatic atmosphere settled over the hall.
Within this environment, the emotions that had been fermenting inside Lucian for so long surged to the surface one by one, forming vivid images in his mind. They were the nostalgia of the heart — scene after scene of longing:
There was the longing for family and friends, the memories of interactions with them burned so deeply into his mind: the kind, gentle, noble Mr. Victor, who had never looked down on him, who had taught him with great care and looked after him with genuine warmth; Uncle Joel and Aunt Elisa, who had cared for him like his own parents, who had lent him their entire life savings when he was at his most desperate, who had stepped forward without hesitation when thugs came beating down on him; John, his steadfast friend, who had disregarded his own prospects as a knight and chosen to stand with him against the gang; Natasha, with her humor and beauty, so open and generous, never once putting on airs, selflessly and wholeheartedly kind to her friends, and who had shared so many experiences with him…
There was the longing for the old house in the Adrang District — the wooden door he had repaired with his own hands, the destroyed Arcane Magic laboratory hidden in the basement. During the time he had lived there, he had learned to read, become a Magic Apprentice, and matched wits against the heretics of the Silver White Horn…
There was the longing for the garden villa, where although he had stayed only a few months, the weathered stone bricks and the vines creeping up the walls still seemed vivid in his memory. It was there that he had played two Piano pieces for Natasha — "To Sylvia" and the first movement of "Moonlight." It was there that he had learned of the Arcane Council from Mr. Rhein…
There was the longing for the uniquely shaped and beautiful Musicians' Association, with its thick, plush carpets, its quiet environment, its immaculate music library, and its fully equipped practice rooms. They had witnessed every small step of his journey — had witnessed his endless repetition while practicing the Piano, and the heartfelt "challenge" he had cried out when he played "Fate"…
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These images flashed before Lucian's eyes with almost physical clarity. But even more vivid and piercing was the omnipresent longing, the wistfulness, and the deep attachment he had felt throughout his journey and his life in Arling — along with the sorrow and helplessness of the imminent "farewell."