Chapter 2: the prince and the pauper (II)
"You really came!"
Rian flipped his linen ruff with a proud grin, hoping that his exuberant charisma would hide the sweat trickling down his forehead. "Of course. I always keep my promises." Without waiting for Michael to question his breathlessness, Rian took a seat next to him, saying, "how's the score going? Have you played it yet? How does it sound?"
Feeling slightly embarrassed by the overwhelming queries regarding his composition, Michael laughed nervously. "I… well, I did practice a few times before you came. Would you… would you like to hear it?"
"Please!"
Michael picked up his violin and positioned it around his shoulder. As he was preparing, Rian observed the instrument in front of him; it was quite ruined, like someone had used it to hammer nails instead of playing music. The wood had mild cracks and scratches, as well as chipped ends. Yet the strings were in place, and it looked clean, despite its poor quality.
"Does it… does it sound the same?" Rian asked with caution.
It took a second for Michael to understand what he meant, and when he did, a sad smile formed on his lips. "It doesn't, unfortunately. I agree that it is very broken, but it is the only violin I have." His voice dropped to a harsh whisper. "And only the heavens may help me if I asked for a new one…"
"What was that?"
"Ah, it's nothing." Michael placed his bow and stood up. "Then, good friend, I shall begin my play now."
The first few notes sounded weak and soft, and it barely sounded like a whistle, much less a violin. Rian was quite disheartened at this; being subject to so many theory and practical lessons, he could hear the notes in his head as soon as he read them, and he knew that the composition Michael wrote was beautiful. The boy's skill was not to be taken lightly either, and his playing could very well rival the maestro's in the royal palace.
Michael was gifted.
It was a pity that the battered instrument did him no justice.
Rian's inner thoughts must've displayed through his expression, for Michael stopped halfway, and lowered his violin.
"Is it not up to your expectations?"
Rian stood up hurriedly, shaking his head. "No, no! I was thinking, your music sounds marvellous, but the violin… in that state, not even a pig would enjoy it."
For a moment, Michael's face darkened, and Rian was about to apologise for his boorish words, and curse himself for it—but Michael merely laughed.
"Where did you even come up with that?"
"My teacher used to insult me like that."
A smug look appeared on Michael's face. "Then you must be terrible."
Rian raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"
"I bet you have proper violins to play with, so if your teacher is making that kind of insult, that means your skills are just… as bad as this thing," he said, and knocked his broken violin.
The young prince guffawed. "You sure are brave to say that."
"You can prove me wrong." Michael handed over his instrument. "The sound might not be of quality, but I can tell by your playing if you're any good."
Rian accepted his challenge without hesitation. There was no tension or worry within him, for prince Darian knew of his talents, and when you've been training under the best mentors in the entire kingdom, it would be a desecration to the art of violin playing should Rian be below par.
And as he expected, his playing was flawless, and Michael gave a nod to acknowledge him.
"My, you sure are talented."
Rian bowed as he returned the violin. "You flatter me." He then sat on the fountain side and swung his legs. "But I bet your music would've sound great on a better violin."
Michael laughed dryly. "Honestly, I've been listening to this for so long, I forgot what a normal violin sounds like."
"You're not serious?"
He shrugged. "Or perhaps I'm just used to listening to subpar instruments."
A pang of sorrow hit Rian's heart, and in his indignant state, he grabbed Michael by the shoulders. "Friend, you, are as talented as I am. It would be a waste to not let the people hear your passion."
The commoner boy blinked. "Are you saying I should be a busker? That won't do. My family will go mad."
"Mad?"
He nodded. "They detest me doing anything other than moving and mining coals. Say that we should dedicate our lives to it, else it'd be hell trying to live."
"And have they seen your performance?"
"Not once."
Rian gave an encouraging slap on his back. "Play for them. Let them know that your hands aren't for digging rocks, but for writing songs that would sooth hearts."
Michael felt warm in his cheeks. "You really think so?"
"I know it."
The boy broke into a grateful smile. "I will try. Thank you, Rian."
But unbeknownst to the prince, not everyone has a taste for music.
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