The Wielder of Death Magic

Chapter 541: Vorn

“Prove a point?” complete silence befell the concert hall. The loudness reduced the single man sat at the piano. Judging eyes of the audience watched, the most critical, Cartney. The reason for the misunderstanding was one incomprehensible by the pianist. Why would a guitarist play the piano, it was as if asking a child to speak a foreign language. In any case, or so what thought Cartney, ‘- he said he’d prove a point. I don’t accept modern music; even if he’s played the piano before, there’s no way someone like him could please my trained ears. The world of classical music will not be shunned by worthless and shallow pop-idols.’

“éclair, is everything ready?”

“No need to worry. I’ve found all the information needed; you can play the instrument as well as the guitar. Good job on having a link with a demon.”

“Oh please,” he chuckled, “-you’re not a demon, thou art mine helper.”

“Supposed the old dialect is a force of habit?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugged and pressed fingers together, “-it’s a battle between me and that snob.”

The first note played, “-so beautiful,” commented Sally.

.....

“Everyone can do that,” shrugged Cartney, ‘-the punk can play the piano.’ Jealousy and anger welled, the single note had him breathing deep and worried.

‘The only way to make him enjoy our music is,’ the single notes grew into complex chords, ‘-is the turn a pop-song into a classical piece.’ A loud pause had the audience on the edge, the anticipation of the next passage, the silent build-up, the tension, it all grew till the thread neared snapping. “Enjoy this,” fingers galloped along the keys, lower chords held strong, the stops sharpened to the point of punches, the culmination of the advanced techniques marred the hall, the performance was inches away from useless noise, a cacophonous masterpiece. It hurt to hear, the ears cried, the mind shook for silence, instead of the notes, they wanted to hear the pauses, the relaxation, the moment to breathe through heavy passages and heavier chords.

“Impressive,” Cartney’s jaw dropped. While the others listened with narrowed eyes, the pianist’s face eased to a gentle grin. The song played was an unheard arrangement from a renowned composer.

‘He thinks it’s a classical piece,’ side-glanced Igna, ‘-fool, I only drew thy attention for this.’ The intensity seamlessly transitioned into the woeful heart tearing cry of ‘Daylight Struggle’. A memorable melody, those beside the pianist listened and smiled. The soft notes tickled the inner-ear, a whisper from an angel.

“Daylight struggle,” said one of Vorn, “-it’s our song...” they paused in confusion.

“How is he playing it with such complexity and emotion?” wondered the pianist of the band.

“Igna is a genius,” commented Alicia, “-he began the journey in the cooking world. Due to circumstances, came to Alphia in search of a new path. He was a rival to the renowned Kyle Darker. One of Alphia’s elite up-and-coming chefs.”

“I’ve heard of him,” added the guitarist of Vorn, “-is that Kinless?”

“Yes,” smiled Alicia,”-he’s started posting guitar melodies over the Arcanum.”

“Yeah, I remember now,” smiled she, “-he’s good. I follow him on a private account, the dude’s amazing with that instrument in hand. I can’t even replicate the techniques he uses.”

“Ladies,” voiced Cartney, “-could I have silence?”

“Sorry about that,” nodded they.

The shy expression loomed about friendliness. Each note played had him in shock. There was no comparison, ‘-he’s blessed by the god of music,’ thought he in tears.

‘Let’s end the passage,’ soft and melodic to fast and harsh, the note darted all over to end with a slam of the fist onto the lowest note.

Deep inhale, “-Cartney,” he shouted, “-this is what I wanted to prove. Modern music and melodies are a thing to be respected and admired. Daylight Struggle might sound simple on the surface; it can be enhanced to sound as complex and evoking as a classical piece,” vaulting down the stage, “-make sense now?”

“Igna,” stood Cartney, “-let’s play on stage!”

“Why?”

“You’ve shown me how pretty the new-age can sound. Now it’s my turn to repay the favor. Come on, get on stage, I want to hear thy guitar in the company of my piano.”

“As you wish,” the duo made up the stairs once more.

‘I still hate the new-age sound. However,’ sat at the instrument, ‘-I can’t ignore his ability. I suppose I ought to look at the best of both worlds. My heart belongs to the classics. My mind should be open to appreciate the few masterpieces made by the youth. I was a fool, being praised made me lose sight of the purpose of music,’ glancing towards Igna, ‘-thanks for the reality check.’

“Brother Cartney,” shouted Sally.

“Yes, sister?”

“Do you mind if I record the performance?”

“No, not really,” the voice felt less serious and more enjoying of life, “-what about you, Igna?”

“No, I don’t mind. The opportunity to play with a renowned pianist is exciting.”

“Cut the sarcasm,” returned he, “-don’t you hate me?”

“No, I do admire the composition and how your piano sounds.”

“Thank you.”

Meanwhile, the musicians fell into idle chatter, Sally focused on Thomas, clocked in black, mid-way between chubby and skinny. Few body features showed signs of having worked out before. The strong jarring forehead and sunken eyes watched ever so silently. Pierced ears, rounded glasses, and a sharp nose. Moustache and soul patch combination showed an interest in music.

“What?” returned he strongly.

“The camera,” smiled Sally, “-start recording.”

“Fine,” the already set camera recorded with a press.

“Alicia,” Vorn gathered about the singular lady, “-who’s Igna really?”

“Why are you girls so interested?” asked she.

“He’s handsome, talented, and stoic. Come on,” pleaded a pink-haired girl, “-there’s no need to be so coy about it.”

‘Nona Isabelle, the guitarist of Vorn. She’s talented and has a unique tone. I get why people see her as attractive. Her hair ends short of the collarbone; brightly colored blue eyes. Her explosive persona ignites the stage when they perform; her popularity goes a long way.’

‘Hinei Yuna, the singer. Tattoos down her arms and on the neck. Long hair with bands, half white and other black, her paleness resembles a ghost. Her outfits are very binary, dulled colors – the laid-back personality is something to contend with as well. Oval shape, a rounded nose, and fetching lashes.’

‘Morgaria D’hern, a bassist hailing from Iqeavea. Blonde hair, green eyes, a rounded-shaped face, very curvy features. A model for Alice, she turned the stereotype of bassist being at the back of the show – taking center stage, breaking into solos, even singing at times. Out of the six, she’s got more followers.’

‘Enna Vornia, the leader and pianist. A background of playing classically until being scouted by Ansoft. A noble of the Dukedom of Vornia. Brown hair is always tied gracefully, her dresses and mannerism are very lady-like, tall, and ever-watching. Her presence alone can alter a room.’

‘Nerilina Gotla, the violinist and Enna’s best friend. Also, from a classical background. Opposed to Enna’s eye-catching presence, she’s more reserved. Grey-colored hair, grey-colored eyes, and simple clothes. Depending on the show, she’s either at the back or not present. Despite that, she’s got a quirkiness that makes her, her.”

‘Lastly, the drummer, Sheiwai Stan. A beast on her instrument, curly hair, tanned complexion, and deep brown eyes. Another model of Alice, her explosiveness pairs with Nona in a scary manner. When those two are left to rile up the audience – if left unchecked, they may cause riots. On top of being a very skilled drummer, she’s also the beauty standard many girls follow blindly. Uses her platform to educate younger ladies in becoming individuals with strong body and mind.’

“Come on,” voiced Nona, “-tell us who he is already.”

‘They’re interested in Igna. This could be good, Vorn’s got a fair amount of popularity and are only starting to break into the international market.’

“There’s no need to rush her, Nona, don’t worry about it,” said Enna calmly.

“Look at the front,” smiled Morgaria, “-they’re ready to start.”

Minutes turned into hours, Cartney and Igna played over and over again. They went over multiple genres, the pianist broke out his shell as for Igna, he added and complemented Cartney without standing out. Thus, at noon, “-Igna,” breathed he loudly, “-stop playing in the shadows. Stand out and show me what you can do,” he began playing a repetitive progression, “-go on, show me the true abilities.” Part of Vorn headed to the changing room and readied for photoshoots in 03. Guards allowed entry for anyone into the hall. Many dropped in and out, watching and listening. A private concert of two very talented musicians.

“Alright,” said he, “-I’ll take the lead.” In the last two-minute, he swapped from acoustic to electric and so, they ended the jam session.

“Good job out there,” smiled Alicia holding a towel and ice-cold water.

“What’s there good about it,” he wiped and smiled, “-We just played and got to know one another through music.”

“I mean,” she glanced to Cartney, “-I’ve never seen that man being so elated. Classical musicians feel like rocks, unsurmountable walls and a clear defining line between our worlds.”

“I guess it’s true. The same can be said for idols and normal folks, we all live in differing worlds,” off the stage and leaned on her shoulders, “-I’m tired. Where’s Lady Sally?”

“At her brother’s side.”

“Alicia, come over here.”

“Coming,” said she, “-go take a walk, I’ll be back soon.”

“Alright,” he ambled out the hall, ‘-I feel dizzy.’ Crossing into the outside, the hands braced for blinding sun rays, ‘-huh?’ grey and calm, ‘-the weather’s gloomy and better.’ The turtle-neck stuck and felt very uncomfortable, the irritation of had the face twitching in annoyance. ‘-Fresh air, I need a breeze,’ unknowing of the surrounding, the quest for freshness laid onto a cleared piece of land. A gentle slope led to a still under construction waiting area, a park per the first impression.

A singular bench covered by foliage from a tall tree stood lonesome, ‘-found my napping spot.’

“We’re in luck,” said éclair, “-Pluton may be meeting the agency sooner than predicted. They’re headed to Odgawoan – shall I contact them?”

“Phone him up,” said Igna.

Out in the silent streets of Melmark, a ring startled Odgar, ‘-unknown caller?’ thought he directing Tensy in carrying supplies for the office. “Odgar Codd of the Codd Agency, how may I be of service?”

“Odgar Codd,” a deep menacing voice echoed.

“Who is this?”

“Fret not, I mean no harm. Are you still a member of the Lerado Familia?”

“Yes, why?”

“I’ve heard the Codd agency’s been lacking in funds lately. The Lerado haven’t been able to grant any substance either.”

“Who are you?” the voice grew suspicious.

“Pluton from the Dark-Guild.”

“Which faction?”

“It doesn’t matter. A supervisor hasn’t the right to know my identity yet.”

“I guess,” he breathed nonchalantly, “-anything I can help with?”

“I’d like to hire your services, have the schedule open. I’ll call once the agency is in Odgawoan.”

“Hey boss,” said Tensy, “-anything the matter?”

“No,” returned he, “-continue loading the supplies,” spun to face the road, ‘-Pluton of the Dark-guild. How did he know we’ll be in Odgawoan... This could be a chance to avenge father’s killer. Lerado hasn’t done much in the search for the killer. I’ll play along, Pluton, see you soon.”

.....

“Was it necessary to be all secretive?” wondered éclair under the breezy shade.

“No, I don’t know what faction I belong to,” he facepalmed, “-mother never really told me.”

“Should have asked,” chuckled éclair, “-tis Godfather Shadow’s faction.”

“What about Godfather Renaud?”

“He’s the right-hand man of the revived Overlord. It’s safe to say Phantom’s taken most of their activities. Renaud said it himself, he trusts our family more than he does his own. They’re going through a dispute in regards to the next head of the family.”

“Well, doesn’t matter, does it,” said he intrigued by a lonesome figure over to the left.

“Right, it doesn’t.”

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