The Wise and the Musical

     Wiselon was one of the youngest lords of Brightvale. He had achieved a high level of academics and used this strength to explore new lands and bring new knowledge to his kingdom. Our story starts one bright and clear day.

     “Isn’t it a beautiful day, Serena?” asked Wiselon, as he gazed out of his tower window. His attire was of a heavy quality and regal style. For a young Skeith, his appreciation of the old days clearly burned strong. Serena swooped down onto his shoulder from a perch built into the thick stone walls.

     “Very bright and crisp, although would you expect anything else in the land of Brightvale?” replied Serena, gently laughing. Her brilliant white feathers did her justice as the most intelligent Weewoo in the land. Serena and Wiselon had met during their adventuring, and had been inseparable ever since.

     “I suppose not, although something has been troubling me of late.”

     “Wiselon, you know you can confide in me,” gasped Serena. She was shocked that she had not noticed a change in the always happy mood Wiselon portrayed. Wiselon turned from the window and slumped into a large arm-chair by the black and dying fireplace.

     “Is there anything left for us here?” asked Wiselon, with his eyebrows raised slightly. His eyes beheld a starved tone of longing.

     “What do you mean? There are plenty of books...” started Serena, but Wiselon stopped her mid-sentence.

     “Are we destined to read of others until the end of time? I yearn for adventure, Serena, like the old days.” With that, Wiselon slumped on his desk, remembering the days when he would jump at the chance of adventure. But his adventuring days were over, and they both knew this.

     “Come now, Wiselon, you know you can’t really leave Brightvale. You’re on the high-council! If you left, you would lose everything you had achieved.” Serena jumped onto the desk to face Wiselon directly. “Is there anything in Brightvale that we could do together?” asked Serena.

     “What do the people want that we can provide? They have everything they need to be happy. Books, berries and stained glass. That’s all one needs to fill one’s free time,” replied Wiselon, with a rather sarcastic tone.

     “Well, I suppose we’re condemned to boredom for all time then!” laughed Serena. “At least we are more civilised than the Tyrannians. All they have is a wheel that doesn’t stop spinning and that shabby concert hall!”

     Suddenly Wiselon looked up. The well-oiled cogs in his efficient mind started spinning quicker than the wheel of Brightvale.

     “That’s it!” shouted Wiselon, as he stood up from his chair. Serena, startled at this sudden movement, which was most unbecoming of a lord of Brightvale, lost a few feathers.

     “What on Neopia are you doing!” replied Serena, trying to regain some balance.

     “The concert hall! That thing sells out every day and people from all over Neopia go to see the acts there. Why can’t we have one here?”

     * * *

     “A concert hall? Here? In Brightvale?” boomed a deep voice. Wiselon stepped back a little and Serena shrunk onto his shoulder.

     “My King, they can be very educational.”

     Wiselon had gone straight to King Hagan with his idea. Full of confidence, he had approached the King during his breakfast, which was his first mistake. Everyone knows that from 8am until 9am King Hagan will see nobody.

     “Educational! The Tyrannian Concert Hall is full of barbarians and rockers. Do you really want to attract those sort of people here!” boomed King Hagan. His voice shook the foundations of the great all and Serena appeared to lose yet more feathers.

     “Indeed my King, we could put on old Brightvalian plays that haven’t been shown in years, and put them to music. They would be full of strong Brightvalian virtues, and also a source of entertainment.

     “Entertainment? We have books for that,” replied Hagan. His mood was improving with every mouthful of his corn and berry cereal.

     “Yes, but my King books are so solitary. By allowing our citizens to get involved with the story inside the pages the knowledge can truly be brought to life,” explained Wiselon. King Hagan squinted his eyes.

     “Hmmm... Well, I’m not dense! I knew that. And anyway I have an even better idea. We shall hold concerts in this great hall which shall have music accompanying our plays. What do you think of that?” laughed Hagan, pleased with himself.

     “Isn’t that what you just said?” whispered Serena.

     “I think it’s an excellent idea, sire, and one that will bring joy to the people of Brightvale for many years to come,” replied Wiselon. King Hagan stood up.

     “I hereby proclaim that Lord Wiselon of Brightvale shall henceforth be known as the Court Composer.”

     A smile formed on Wiselon’s face. This was his chance to make a difference and seek adventure! King Hagan continued.

     “Court Composer, I shall commission from you a musical play that will show within two weeks. May I also suggest that you use berries in it – sales have been poor lately and any advertisement would be appreciated.”

     With that, King Hagan left the room, leaving Wiselon stood in the echoing silence. Thousand of unorganised thoughts raced through his mind, some starting halfway through and most not finding a resolution. How did one write music? How does it fit with a play? Who would play the instruments? Where could he find the instruments?

     “Wiselon, are you ok?” enquired Serena, noticing that his usual pale complexion was turning a shade of green.

     “Ah... um... why, yes. No. How can I write a musical production so soon?” he yelled, panicking.

     “Well, first of all you need to find a suitable play. I will hire the instruments from the orchestral store in Neopia Central. There are always musicians in the market, so I will round them up and bring them to you first thing tomorrow morning. I can also help you write the music. Well, off you go! There’s lots to be done! Find a suitable play!” ordered Serena, as she flapped her wings and swooped out of a high window.

     Wiselon, slightly confused, stumbled around and rushed to the library.

     * * *

     After several hours of searching through the deep and dusty archives of Brightvale Castle, Wiselon finally found the book he was looking for. The Water Mote. He grabbed the book, which was more than a little damp, and pulled it off the shelf. This was the book that contained a beautiful story about the first Water Mote of Brightvale, which Wiselon thought would be the perfect analogy to the first musical production in Brightvale.

     He climbed the winding stairs back to his tower and began writing up a script and dividing it into possible songs. Wiselon was quite the poet, and you did not know it. Restructuring the words into songs was something that Wiselon found came quite naturally.

     Meanwhile, Serena was busy negotiating a price for hire in Neopia Central.

     “Only 400 neopoints? Surely you can appreciate that Brightvale is a long distance; how do I know I would get them back safely?” enquired the shopkeeper.

     “200 neopoints.”

     “390.”

     “250.”

     “380.”

     “390.”

     “370... no, wait!”

     “Deal. Here is the money up front; have them delivered to Brightvale castle. Thank you!” shouted Serena as she flew out of the shop. The shopkeeper did not look best pleased, but Serena had got herself the instruments! All that was needed now was the cast, the musicians, and a score.

     She flew with all her might to Meridell, just north of Brightvale, in search of musicians. The market was usually full of musicians playing for spare coins, and most were actually pretty good. Years of experience had helped them to build up a solid standard of playing fit for any royal hall. Approaching musicians, she was turned down several times, until she found a young Ixi who could play a violin.

     “Excuse me, would you be interested in playing in a concert?” asked Serena. The young Ixi looked up at the hovering Weewoo, and looked down again.

     “I’m sorry, little Weewoo, but I don’t think I’m good enough,” replied the Ixi.

     “Odds fish, my dear fellow, let’s hear you!” Serena smiled. The young Ixi warmed to her soft nature and positioned the violin under his chin and used his hooves to start brushing the strings. A sweet melody flowed from the instrument which enveloped the very air Serena was hovering in. Several shoppers stopped to listen, throwing coins into the Ixi’s hat. After a minute or so, the Ixi stopped.

     “Don’t insult my intelligence, young Ixi, that playing was immaculately brilliant. You simply must play in the orchestra for a new production,” ordered Serena.

     The Ixi smiled as he collected the coins left for him in the road.

     “Can my friends come too?” asked the Ixi.

     “Friends?” enquired Serena.

     “Yes, all my friends play different instruments and we all practice together. They taught me everything I know,” answered the Ixi.

     Serena had found an orchestra.

     * * *

     Wiselon had been busy working on his new score. While Serena had been finding an orchestra, Wiselon had been researching musical scores. He took his papers down to the Castle organ and started tinkering. The Skeith soon discovered he had a gift. He was finishing melodies in his head before writing them down, and it did not take him long before he could play them on this dusty old organ.

     Serena, hearing the playing, rushed down the Castle organ to find Wiselon rigorously writing down musical notes on blank paper.

     “Wiselon, are you actually writing music?” gasped Serena.

     “Quiet, I need to get this down on paper before I forget it!” replied Wiselon, not stopping his furious scribbling.

     This continued for a few days, with Wiselon resting and eating little. Serena continued to make arrangements, being careful not to disturb Wiselon. She knew that while in his trance he should not be disturbed. This project was clearly very important to him, and for that reason it was important to her.

     At the end of the first week, Wiselon emerged from the darkness of the organ room. His once immaculate attire was now coated with dust and dirt of a forgotten treasure (yes, I mean the organ). He was clutching a bound set of papers.

     “Is that the finished score?” exclaimed Serena, dashing around Wiselon.

     “Yes, I’ve finally finished it,” replied Wiselon, feeling very happy with himself.

     “Well, it’s about time!” screeched Serena. “We’ve been waiting for days! The production has to be shown in just under a week, we have had no rehearsals and King Hagan wants to see a preview before he will fund the set. You really are impossible, Wiselon.”

     “But I...” started Wiselon.

     “No buts. Take this score to the main hall and start rehearsing the orchestra. I will notify King Hagan that you will be able to preview the overture by this evening.”

     And with that, Serena furiously flapped off up the circling staircase.

     Wiselon, suddenly appreciating the urgency of the situation, rushed off the great hall, to find a make-shift stage being constructed and a full orchestra waiting patiently for him. He laughed to himself as he walked up to the orchestra. Serena had never let him down, and probably never would.

     “Hello, everybody, I’m the Court Composer, but please just call me Wiselon.”

     The orchestra remained silent.

     “I see... right, well, this is the score. Please each take a copy and let’s get started.”

     Wiselon gently tapped his baton on a wooden ledge to gain the attention of his attentive orchestra, and raised his arm in a circular motion. A gentle pulse developed from the woodwind section. It was comically simple, and it held unwavering before the strings took it over. The strings gently let the note trickle down the scale as the woodwind returned at the same note. The hall was enveloped in a thick but gentle sound that caressed the polished stone walls and stained glass windows.

     As the orchestra progressed through the score, the sounds varied from light to heavy, staccato to legato. The loudest whisper followed by the softest thunder prevailed through the sharp overtones of flutes and clarinets. Wiselon soon brought in his singers, and their voices only accentuated the genius that Wiselon had created.

     Little did he know that King Hagan and Serena had been sitting in on the rehearsal for quite some time.

     “Well, my King, what do you think?” asked Serena.

     “Serena...” he replied. “I didn’t know such a sound was possible. But as I always say, music holds a hidden knowledge that few can create and even fewer can appreciate.”

     He never says that. Fortunately Serena only thought it and did not say it. But she appreciated the sentiment, and Wiselon had finally found an adventure within Neopia that had never before been tackled. May music forever prosper and unite Neopia.

The End