—Today's two chapters have been merged together into one update. We won't keep you in suspense.
To get this written, I haven't eaten lunch or taken a nap yet. I'm going to grab something to eat first, then come back to fix typos and such.
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The city square, around the crystal wall.
Watching several renowned singers walk out together with an adult choir and a children's chorus, taking their positions behind the semicircle of orchestra members, the surrounding crowd was filled with astonishment.
"What is this?"
"Why is Mr. Fabrini here too?"
"Could it be that the final piece isn't a symphony, but a choral work?"
……
The people who had been brimming with anticipation just moments ago were now left in utter confusion, completely unable to understand what was going on. Why were singers, a choir, and a children's chorus appearing at Lucian Evans's concert, when the program clearly stated a symphony in D minor?
Overhearing the murmuring all around, Betty turned to her sister Joanna in puzzlement. "Could it be that Mr. Evans's symphony includes choral sections?"
"How is that possible? No symphony has ever incorporated a choir! This isn't an oratorio!" A nearby citizen of Altor protested with great conviction — he was a seasoned symphony enthusiast.
Seeing her sister questioned, Joanna gave a soft hmph. "Mr. Evans is renowned for his revolution and innovation. His 'Fate' and 'From the New World' didn't exactly conform to traditional symphonic structures either, did they?"
Similar debates sprang up across the city square, making the crowd ever more curious about Lucian Evans's final symphony.
Meanwhile, inside the Sacred Hymn Hall, watching Fabrini and the others file out onto the stage, Christoph sighed with emotion. "He truly intends to incorporate vocal chorus into a symphony. What a bold innovation — I wonder how it will turn out?"
Although Lucian's rehearsals had been kept strictly confidential, the Altor Musicians' Association was not a large organization, and figures like Fabrini were far from obscure. As a result, the vast majority of musicians and instrumentalists had guessed that Lucian was planning the daring move of integrating a chorus into a symphony.
Because they had grown accustomed to Lucian bringing something new with every composition, the musicians maintained a wait-and-see attitude. As long as it wasn't as outlandish as "From the New World," they were quite open to innovations in symphonic form. Christoph, in particular — a benevolent elder if ever there was one — was delighted to observe it all, hoping it might bring fresh inspiration to his own creative work.
"They say it's excellent, but rehearsing alone is entirely different from performing before a full audience in the Sacred Hymn Hall. The effect might be a hundred times greater!" Natasha declared with complete confidence, sounding as though she herself were the one who had composed the piece and was about to take the podium to conduct. At the same time, she harbored a slight grudge: "That man really knows how to keep a secret. Clearly the outlines of these two symphonies have existed over the past three years, and one of them is nearly finished, yet he hasn't breathed a word. Is he trying to create a surprise?"
In her view, the grand symphonies "From the New World" and the "Ode to Joy" were obviously far too ambitious to have been composed in the mere month and a bit since Lucian's return to Altor. Besides, Lucian himself had admitted to having drafted portions of their movements.
Othello shook his head. "But a chorus has never been attempted in a symphony before. How well it will ultimately come across is still uncertain — it remains an unknown mystery."
At that moment, Lucian emerged from backstage holding a slender baton, dressed in a immaculate tailcoat, his handsome and serene presence reminiscent of moonlight. He pressed his hand to his chest and bowed to the audience on every side.
The chatter both inside the Sacred Hymn Hall and across the city square fell silent in an instant.
Such was the charisma of a top-tier musician.
…………
Turning around and taking his place at the center of the semicircle of musicians, Lucian raised both hands, signaling for silence and readiness.
Habitually closing his eyes, he recalled the trials and tribulations of the past — the long and arduous journey that had brought him to the port of the Holm Kingdom. He remembered stepping out of the dark, oppressive wooden cargo crate and seeing Lazar, dressed in a black double-breasted long coat and wearing a tall top hat. The weather had been bright and splendid, and Lazar's smile had been radiant — like a sacred beam of sunlight piercing through darkness and hardship, heralding the arrival of light!
Without the accumulation of life experience, without the deepening of emotional depth, a conductor cannot truly master a piece of music.
His baton in his right hand and his lightly cupped left hand rose and fell with gentle deliberation, as if seeking to capture those feelings and melodies from far away, from the very beginning. A low, resonant music began to sound, as though emanating from the trembling strings of the soul itself. A deep, calm, and solemn vista of misty landscapes seemed to spring to life before the eyes of every listener.
Victor felt his very soul shiver uncontrollably beneath those trembling tones, uncertain whether the sensation arose from excitement at the melody or from the awe inspired by its profound gravity.
That trembling reverberated through every heart present — even the Cardinal's — leaving everyone with an initial, deep, and visceral impression of the music. It was grand and solemn, as if gestating a vigorous, unstoppable force, while also foreshadowing the imminent peril that no one could escape, the difficulties and suffering that every soul must endure from birth to death!
Then the latent power gradually swelled. The music grew forceful and vigorous, its striking rhythm sending waves of tremors through the listeners' hearts. A second theme, oppressive and severe, embodied the hardships and predetermined fate that no one wished to face or welcome. The two themes intertwined again and again, imbuing the entire first movement with the same unyielding struggle and unrelenting cry that had run through "Fate" and "Pathétique."
Woven among them were passages of tranquility and soaring melody that served not only to highlight the cruelty and grandeur of battle through the temporary lulls within the struggle, but also to reveal the sacredness and inevitability of overcoming hardship, vanquishing the enemy, and conquering the darkness!
The sixteen-minute first movement flew by as the audience listened in rapt, almost intoxicated focus, concluding with a temporary triumph of the struggle. They erupted in thunderous applause, expressing their love for the movement without reservation.
"The opening is already so grand and majestic, so deep and solemn — this movement is truly outstanding! The structure is rigorous and solid, virtually flawless!" Othello, who favored stately music, did not frown as he had during "From the New World," but instead showered the movement with every laudatory expression he could muster.
Natasha chimed in with a hint of pride: "If the remaining three movements maintain this same standard, then this will unquestionably stand among the finest symphonic masterpieces — a classic worthy of standing alongside 'Fate' and 'Dawn of War' for future generations to revere. This concert has been the richest feast imaginable, and two of the works are new compositions. I doubt we'll see anything like it again."
Yet Duke Vaolet spoke with a trace of confusion: "By any measure, the first movement deserves all your praise, but I can't help feeling something is missing — that explosive sense of overwhelming impact?"
"Indeed. Whether we consider technique, structure, or melody, the movement is nearly perfect. But it doesn't have the same breathless terror and urgency as the first movement of 'Fate,' with its raging storms, nor does it offer the unique emotional resonance of the opening movements of 'Pathétique' and 'Moonlight.'"
Christoph shared his impression. "Grandeur, depth, severity — it conveys all of these, yet it lacks that one memorable quality. It's like a volcano harboring terrifying power that erupts from time to time, but falls short of the audience's expectations. It doesn't surge forth in that inevitable, overwhelming way that would leave people feeling increasingly oppressed, burdened, and engulfed in darkness."
"What Mr. Christoph describes is exactly how I feel," Victor agreed. "But precisely because of that, I'm all the more eager for an explosive release in some later movement. That is the key to whether this piece becomes a true classic." He was not anxious; he continued to wait without a shred of doubt for the remaining three movements, though he, too, felt a faint sense of oppressive darkness.
Seated nearby, Count Hain, Count Lafati, and the Cardinal Goce found it difficult to chime in on the musical discussion, but they readily agreed with Christoph's assessment. Although the first movement's struggle ended with a grand, albeit temporary, victory over the enemy and the darkness, they still felt as though they were walking alone through shadow, with countless hardships and perils still stretching ahead.
This was a feeling shared by all.
Soon, under Lucian's baton, the second movement began. Breaking with the tradition that such a movement must be written in a slow tempo, it opened with a lively and radiant melody, as though pressing forward in pursuit of the enemy upon the heels of victory — as though the darkness had briefly vanished, revealing a clear blue sky and blazing sunshine, lifting everyone's spirits.
"He really has broken with tradition again," Christoph said with a kind, unsurprised smile, wearing the indulgent expression of a mentor toward a young protégé.
Othello furrowed his brow slightly but quickly relaxed. He felt that using a vivacious, brisk movement to follow the solemn grandeur of the first was, in fact, entirely fitting — and he could not think of a better approach. Moreover, the structural variation between movements made it easier for him to accept.
On the city square, anyone with even a passing familiarity with symphonic music noticed the change, but they were more focused on the essence of the music itself and enjoyed the second movement just as much, finding its melodies beautiful and its atmosphere perfectly judged.
Since the second movement was so excellent and so seamlessly integrated, it only proved that the structural innovation was well worth making!
The triumphant advance continued, but the darkness seemed to creep back once more. The enemy appeared to close in from every direction, and the urgent, rapid melodies brought a sense of tension.
Within that unease, the second movement drew to a close. The audience, bolstering themselves and Lucian alike, broke into yet another wave of applause as fervent as a rising tide. It was as if the more fervently they applauded, the less alone they would feel — the more they could unite together to overcome the darkness and the peril.
Very few symphonies earned such passionate applause during every pause between movements!
After the applause died down, no one spoke. The sense of oppression and darkness in the depths of their hearts had only grown more intense. The volcano within had stopped its eruption, as though accumulating its terrifying, awesome power.
After a brief respite and contemplation, Lucian once more set his baton in motion, and the entire orchestra followed his emotion into the third movement.
A serene, peaceful melody — gentle, beautiful, and smoothly flowing — drifted through the hall, drawing listeners into quiet meditation.
No musician commented on the fact that this movement, too, abandoned the conventional fast tempo in favor of a lyrical slow movement, soft as song. After the fierce, stirring, tragic, or unsettling struggles of the first two movements, everyone desperately needed a moment of quiet reflection — to consider what they were fighting for, to contemplate the meaning of their struggle, to recall the hardships and efforts endured throughout the entire journey. Only then could they gather new strength and reap the brilliant, joyous victory!
Is everything you do always smooth and easy?
Have you ever felt the heartfelt joy of overcoming a great difficulty?
Are you besieged by obstacles at every turn in life?
When you face them, do you fight with courage, or surrender in despair?
…………
In the quiet of his thoughts, Victor once again recalled the hardships of his life's journey. He had never become a musician through ease and comfort:
Locking himself away from the world to compose, shutting out everything and everyone; socializing with noblemen and the gentlemen of the Musicians' Association against his own inclinations, all to "beg" for a concert — only to be met with the blow of failure, with audiences leaving without mercy, with malicious ridicule from nearly everyone around him. He had been almost crushed by hardship and darkness, saved only by Winnie's encouragement, which allowed him to rise again and pour in tenfold the effort to earn another chance at a concert — and win success. But before he could fulfill his promise, Winnie had been called to her eternal rest……
Natasha thought of her own past. Born into a noble family, of the highest bloodline, with a harmonious household — she had seemed blessed by the God of Truth himself. But life is never without storms. In a brief span, her brother fell in battle and her mother passed away, causing her to seal her heart away, to shoulder a crushing burden, and to throw herself completely into the grueling training of a knight.
And just when she had discovered her own knightly spirit, emerged from the shadow of the past, and welcomed a beautiful love and a new life, a cruel betrayal — one that could have been avoided — descended upon her. For the sake of all those who supported and cherished her, she had been forced to slay the one she loved with her own hands. She had nearly been killed by her cousin's subordinates, saved only by the selfless courage of her friend Lucian, who risked his life without a second thought……
Lucian, even as he conducted, was thinking of his own manifold tribulations. The dark memories swirled through his mind — so oppressive and perilous, yet they had yielded the gains that propelled him forward, enabling him to run toward the light, to chase the sun and success, never stopping, never giving up.
Have you known the experience of darkness, oppression, and anguished despair?
From such experiences, did you draw lessons and strength to press forward with greater resilience — or did you sink into them, never to extricate yourself?
Do you long for light and triumph?
Have you prepared yourself to face the darkness and peril on the road that leads to them?