Conquest of Paradise

[Wake]

The sound was confusing at first, the faintest touch of a myriad of notes eerily suspending themselves in the air as they traveled the distance. And with every step, Elizabeth Hall, walked towards its source, her destiny. Guards, nowhere in sight. Security systems were activated, she double checked. And yet, the sound grew bigger, more melodic, more clear, like honey called to a bear. Or flame to a moth. Was she the bear or the moth? At last, in front of the doors, she composed herself. Ready and regal, she opened them without ceremony and with a rehearsed mask filled with disgust and confusion on who was playing the intricate instrument in her office. Not that she played. Not that she had ever know someone that played it. Such knowledge was normally reserved for the best of Bretonia, and gaining such would indicate the ultimate favor of the Crown, or that you were part of it. Part of Her. An auburn beauty furiously hammered the keys in sync, like she was in a trance as the crescendo was rising through the walls like invading waves into the room of the chateau.

---

New London System, Windsor - 800 A.S.

A small child was sweating as her small hands traveled the harpsichord. One dissonant sound and the slim, hard hitting cane descended like the fury of the gods once again. The girl winced in pain and rubbed her hands. The woman teaching her looked at her without a hint of hate or rage. Just plain indifference.

"Again."

The woman spoke. The girl looked back in defiance, her mouth prepared with questions that filled her mind.

"It is our right. It is our honor. It is our duty. Again."

The small girl huffed, and prepared herself for another round of La Folia.

---

The music gathered a crescendo capable of raising one's soul. She walked slowly, tentatively, towards the musician in trance, the one truly living the music, the one that kept on playing like she was not even there. And for some minutes, there they stood. A musician and her audience, with only the harpsichord talking, making the impossible possible. Hope out of fear, Excitement out of melancholy. And as every feeling it conveyed, it ended abruptly, with the woman on the keys pacing her breath, and turning around to look at Elizabeth. Rising and extending her bare hand as a greeting, she smiled like a million warm suns and with a sheepish look, she finally spoke. "My lady Governor. I am terribly sorry." Her curtsy was polite, somewhat unpolished, one would say almost naive. "I couldn't help myself, it has been too long since I last played." The woman said while waving towards the harpsichord, with a deep smile in her face. "I am Commander Agnes Wake. Agnes Augusta Wake." The accent was low born Leeds, the smile was war-free Cambridge, and the talent was posh New London. This woman was something completely new. How could someone this radiant escape her knowledge?

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