Ling-ling Zamlock. The man needed no introduction in Franz’ mind. His mere presence ripped the Austrian boy’s attention away from his conversation with Inti. All eyes were on him. What interest did such a man have in Bermuda specifically, as opposed to the global stage?
”Would the real Franz Steiner please stand up?”Franz was taken aback in shock. One of his idols, the man who stood atop of the world of violin, had directly asked for him. Had the tales of his exploits earned him such recognition? Franz was quick to compose himself as he began walking toward the stage. What was he thinking, of course he had made such a name for himself. He was Franz Steiner, and he was the only one who could gather the reputation that was held in that name.
Franz took the stage and took a bow to accept the honour in front of his fellow students. He graciously accepted the violin that was handed to him. The two exchanged pleasantries as they prepared their instruments for the duet.
”I must admit Zamlock, you were one of my role models when it came to honing my skills on the violin. When I first moved to Vienna, I had seen you perform in person in the first year. I was mesmerized by the skill you displayed then and I had thought then that no one could surpass such a skill.””I wish to humbly compare my skill to yours.”Even if Franz couldn’t satisfy his desire to surpass all others tonight, it was certain that this would be the grand conclusion to the night he had been waiting for. It would be a duet like no other.
Certainly, it would be more fitting than that amateur British drivel those two drunkards requested. Of course, Franz did expect much better. If the British had musical taste, they wouldn’t be called British.
As Franz adjusted his sheet music, a glint of recognition passed over his eyes as he looked toward the Ottoman boy he had spoken with earlier. Civil war eh. No time to dwell on it just yet though, the people had been waiting long enough for this performance.
The genius youth met the gaze of the untouched apex and in unison, they raised their violins.
It has begun.
Franz could keep up with the maestro in the duet well enough. Although Zamlock was certainly in the lead position, even if the untrained ear couldn’t hear it. This did not bother Franz for the time being. He would allow the maestro to take the lead for the start out of respect. He had other matters to ponder on anyway.
The Austrian boy scanned the room with the stage as his vantage point. While he did need to look down to the page frequently, he was able to keep a sense of showmanship while he surveyed his future colleagues. With the matter of Konigmahne’s rush to conduct family business and de Bordeaux’s comments about snakes in the grass, one thing was made abundantly clear. Many of these students were not here for genuine academic purposes, much like himself, they served some outside interest groups.
But that left some key questions on Franz’ mind. Just how many of them were like him? How many looked at their fellow students only to try and find a place to slip a poisoned dagger? Could he see some doing such a thing in the crowd right now? How exciting, Franz thought. And then his attention fell onto Salim, his target.
Civil war had broken out in the Ottoman Empire. Such news was very good to Franz. One of the greatest threats to Austria was crumbling at its base. All Franz needed to do was make sure it toppled over. As long as Salim stayed in Bermuda, voiceless and unable to help his country, the empire will have lost one of its great minds to help stabilize the political system. All Franz had to do was make sure Salim stayed in Bermuda with minimal contact to home.
On the other hand, if Salim would tried to leave back to the Ottoman Empire, Franz would have no issues dealing with him. It would be a great tragedy if Ottoman insurgents managed to take out the young Formulization prodigy.
But enough of those thoughts, it was about time Franz took the lead in the duet. He began to play louder and with more gusto, only for the maestro himself to match it and surpass it only slightly. Franz looked toward Zamlock and the two exchanged pleasant smiles. Franz furrowed his brow and tried again a few bars later, only for the same result. The maestro was playing with him, not allowing him to take the lead.
To the untrained ear, this would sound like the two experts were making the duet truly come alive. But to Franz, calling it a duet was far too pleasant for what this was. It was a duel. Franz was the aggressor, listening in for any opportunity Zamlock gave to take the lead and trying to take it. But Zamlock’s defence was perfect. Every time Franz tried to leave the shadow of the maestro, he would match it immediately, maintaining his position.
Franz hid his look of frustration behind a facade of theatrical confidence. The maestro was playing with him. The two continued to exchange pleasant smiles throughout the song. There was no way that Zamlock was not aware of what Franz was trying to do. Did he hold the same malcontent that the boy hid behind his grin, Franz wondered. Was the maestro trying to send a message of humility to the young prodigy or was Franz merely letting it get to his head?
The exchange continued like this until before Franz knew it, the song was over. To an outside viewer, this was a spectacularly grand performance on both the violinist’s parts. One may even think that Franz should consider himself proud to keep up with the world’s greatest violinist. But Franz knew better, there was no point that he had shown himself capable to outplay Zamlock. Franz had lost the duel of strings.
Afterwards, Franz spent a brief moment studying the man. What was his intention behind this? But any attempt was fruitless. If it is was humility the maestro wanted to give the prodigy, Franz would have to endure its bitter taste.
Franz gave a smile to the man he admires and reached to shake his hand.
”And thus, I believe I have my answer. Now if you will excuse me, the night is close to finishing and I would like to dance some more.” Franz gave a bow before exiting the stage to return to the floor. There was no point trying to contend further with the maestro, the difference in skill was decided far before the song had ended. He would need to exercise patience and practice before he could surpass that man.