《Prelude》


 Chapter One

    Music is more than just sound, a compilation of notes, or a score on a page. Music is an emotion, a latent fluidity that exists within some, patiently waiting to be released into the blood, into the mind. Its haunting melodies and entrancing verses capture the heart and hold it hostage, threatening to dwell and agitate until heard once more. Music, once awakened in the soul, becomes a necessity.


    I was merely seven years old when I found myself imprisoned within the confines of a melody. Orlando, my caretaker, was trying to find something new and amusing to tempt me with as the usual attentions of a young boy had been exhausted and found wanting. So instead of the usual childish entertainments, he picked up his lute and strummed an easy melody- something happy and carefree. The words he sang could have been anything, but their harmony to the song his fingers created was enchanting. I perched in front of him and listened intently, goosebumps rising to my skin. I concentrated on how his hands moved on the strings, both above the opening in the instrument and across the neck. Despite my perpetual search for new amusements, Orlando had enraptured me within a few notes. It was only when he¡¯d suddenly stopped playing that I realized my breathing was in time with his rhythm.


    ¡°Tobias, you couldn¡¯t possibly be interested in a little tune like this one, could you?¡± The smile that played at the corners of his lips said he knew exactly what he¡¯d done.


    ¡°Why did you stop?¡± I demanded, unaccustomed to such mockery. ¡°Orlando, how does the rest of it go?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, little one. Perhaps you could tell me?¡±


    As he played, I created lyrics. The mind of a child knows no limits, and I sang whatever words that appeared on my lips. Nonsensical, fantastic, and free. But I held the same harmony that Orlando had and it matched his playing well, regardless of never having a day of music training in my life.


    ¡°You have quite the knack for this, Tobias,¡± Orlando mused. ¡°Would you like to learn?¡±


    ¡°Yes!¡±


    The very next day, he had a new lute in my hands and taught me my first chords. My fingers were small and unpracticed, clumsy and confused. But I learned at a steady pace and Orlando taught with the patience of an instructor who taught many before me. By day five, my fingers were tender and sore; plucking the strings so often had reddened and bruised them.You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    ¡°Orlando, sir, my fingers hurt¡­¡± I sucked on one gently.


    ¡°You must build callouses on your fingertips to play as often as you¡¯d like,¡± he replied, showing me his hands.


    ¡°What are callouses?¡±


    ¡°Imagine tiny pebbles beneath the skin of your fingers. They¡¯re very hard, but useful in playing any instrument.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want rocks underneath my skin!¡±


    ¡°No, little one, not like that,¡± he laughed. ¡°They¡¯re not actually pebbles. They just feel like that, see?¡± Orlando guided my hand to his fingertips and I could feel what he meant- tiny, hard bumps beneath the pads. ¡°It doesn¡¯t hurt when I play for an extended period of time.¡±


    ¡°How¡­how do I get those?¡±


    ¡°Well, you must keep playing.¡±


    ¡°¡­Alright.¡±


    And so I did. Every day at Orlando¡¯s I played and I learned. I memorized chords and short melodies, made up little songs in my head. Of course he still continued my teachings in learning my letters and manners, but instructions on the lute were what I looked forward to. Often times he used them as a threat to get me to pay attention in my other studies. Each afternoon when my mother came to fetch me, I¡¯d be humming a different tune, moving my fingers in time to the chords on the lute Orlando had taught me. Every night I dreamt of playing more, the songs weaving in and out of every image that crossed my imagination.


    My parents saw it as an activity that kept my racing mind complacent, but it was so much more. I constantly thought of new words to match the tunes I¡¯d learned, how to place chords together to create my own song, and used the beat of my own heart to keep time.


    ¡°Tobias, the most important thing I can teach you is this; harmony can never experience your pain, a note can never understand how you think, but a song¡­a song can express every emotion that you could ever imagine,¡± Orlando explained.


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Music can only be empowered by how you feel. So pour everything you have into it, and you may be surprised what comes of it.¡±


    That day, Orlando played and sang the saddest song I¡¯d ever heard. I knew not of love or loss, of trying pain or grief. But to my surprise, by the final note, I found myself crying.


    ¡°How do you feel?¡± I saw him wipe a few errant tears from his cheeks.


    ¡°¡­I feel¡­sad¡­¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Your song it¡­it was just so¡­sad!¡± I struggled to find the words. It felt terrible.


    ¡°And that, little one, is the power of music.¡±


    I wanted to master the magic he¡¯d instilled within his songs. I desperately wanted to play with the depth that he did. It didn¡¯t take me long to form the callouses on my fingers from my lute strings.

 Chapter Two

    When I reached thirteen, Orlando gifted me with a lute far superior than the one I¡¯d played since childhood. When I opened its case, I gasped. The body was made of mahogany, its neck ebony. The instrument was beautiful- the greatest gift I had ever received.


    ¡°Orlando¡­I don¡¯t know if I can accept this¡­¡±


    ¡°Of course you can, Tobias. You¡¯ve played to me your heart and your soul. I believe you need a worthy instrument to continue to do so.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what to say.¡± I was at a loss for words.


    ¡°Don¡¯t say anything! Give her a go!¡±


    I strummed a short hymn I¡¯d composed a week before, the velvet notes stroking the fine hairs on the back of my neck to standing. The sound flowed like water, leaving echoing ripples in its wake.


    ¡°I¡¯m afraid the student may surpass the master,¡± he laughed.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think that¡¯s possible,¡± I replied, breathless. It was the purest sound I¡¯d heard played from an instrument in my hands.


    I¡¯d grown a considerable amount, both musically and physically. Near anything Orlando could play I could mimic by ear alone- though he drilled me on reading music to the point where I knew it as well as my native tongue. That day, we skipped my mathematics and language lessons in favor of playing songs together that he¡¯d worked so hard to teach me. We shared drinks and food as companions- not as student and teacher. That afternoon, it wasn¡¯t my mother who came to retrieve me, but my father.


    ¡°Orlando, what is this?¡± Father gestured to the lute case in my hand, looking to Orlando expectantly.


    ¡°A gift, my Lord Vaulten. Nothing more,¡± he replied.


    ¡°He¡¯s nearing adulthood. Don¡¯t you think this¡­fixation, on music, should be concentrated into something more practical?¡± Father suggested.


    ¡°Tobias has a phenomenal knowledge of mathematics and financial dealings. His letters and reading comprehension are perfect. Why not offer him one small outlet?¡± Orlando replied.


    ¡°Father, what Orlando says is true. He¡¯s taught me well in what you¡¯ve asked, and more. Please¡ª¡±


    ¡°Master Hyorin,¡± Father interrupted me, ¡°Josephine and I do appreciate all that you¡¯ve done for Tobias. You¡¯ve taught him well and you¡¯ve absolutely earned your reputation.¡±


    ¡°However¡­?¡± Orlando prompted.


    ¡°I believe it¡¯s time I took responsibility of Tobias¡¯ learning. He needs to begin working with me.¡± Father held out a hand and Orlando took it with a wry smile.Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    ¡°Father, hold on¡ª¡±


    ¡°Wait outside, Tobias.¡± Father commanded. It was not my place to argue with him. Orlando withdrew his hand and clasped me on the shoulder.


    ¡°I¡¯ll see you soon, little one,¡± Orlando said.


    I nodded and stepped out of his home with my new case strung over my shoulder. My father closed the door behind me.


    ¡°Music just isn¡¯t sustainable, you know that as well as I¡ª¡± I heard Orlando¡¯s voice through the thick wood.


    ¡°Edrick, give the boy the option before you close him off.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re an invaluable asset, Orlando. I¡¯m sure we¡¯ll be in touch.¡±


    No more lessons with Orlando? Not long after, Father emerged from the cottage.


    ¡°Father, I don¡¯t want to stop learning music,¡± I met his gaze. He nodded and sighed.


    ¡°Tobias, it¡¯s time you start to really see the ins and outs of our legacy. You may do whatever you like with your spare time, but I need you to understand how important this is.¡±


    ¡°But I¡ª¡±


    ¡°This isn¡¯t up for debate.¡± I recognized his tone- knew the weight that it carried. It wasn¡¯t an option, no matter how much I wished for it.


    ¡°¡­Yes, sir.¡±


    I looked forward to the next music lesson I could solicit from Orlando. Unfortunately, it wasn¡¯t nearly as soon as I¡¯d hoped.


    Edrick Vaulten¡¯s financial empire was a business of legend. My father had helped my grandfather build it from the ground up. Together, they accounted for near all of the transactions and investments in the Kingdom of Loredain. As his sole heir, the business would one day fall upon my shoulders, and he¡¯d spent most of my life reminding me of that. Father requested Orlando focus heavily on math and financial matters- everything from taxes to interest. I¡¯d need a solid literary understanding in order to draw up contracts and write correspondence. Some days, Father brought me to shadow him in the building he and my grandfather used for their main operations of business. Though we lived in the smaller city of Kaedence, all of the important contracts and documents were held in that domain. My father and grandfather felt safer keeping them out of the capital- less ¡®ruffian encounters¡¯ to deal with.


    For four long years I observed Father as he drew up contracts for loans and credit. He mediated larger purchases such as homes and estates, constantly keeping track of every number down to the cent. The math was simple enough, the contracts nearly all the same save a few changed words. But Father labored over the scrolls, taking them in as his life¡¯s work. My grandfather would look over his work to approve or correct any small mistakes my father had made- simultaneously teaching me to never make the same ones. Some days my grandfather oversaw the business by himself while Father ventured into the capital of Loredain- Serenisima. The longest tenured and most trusted person in his employ, Walter Dain, maintained a library of painstakingly copied documents of each and every transaction that occurred within the Vaulten Financial Institution. The entire process took up a majority of my father¡¯s- and my- time, leaving me very little solitude. When not taking care of the people of Kaedence, we were running missives to those in his employ across the Kingdom, pouring over paperwork in his study, or checking in with my grandfather on the final numbers for the week.


    The constant effort and energy he exerted for his business seemed¡­unnecessary. The passing of each day was dull and mundane. Never changing, always constant. I wanted more with my life, something fluid and beautiful. It didn¡¯t matter to me how much money my family earned in interest and loans each year. I didn¡¯t care how his business affected the economy of Loredain- yet, every day, Father and Grandfather poured more information down my throat until I was near to bursting. Finally, one afternoon when I was freed from the anchor of coin, I took my lute and ran to- what I hoped was still- Orlando¡¯s residence.