Erik snuffed as the young Baron entered his room. It was the second
time, and his visits were quickly tiring. The little snort caused a searing
pain to shoot through his side. He regained his breath.
"Please, Erik, allow me to explain," the Baron caught the heat from his eyes. "The ladies and gentleman here, they're not used to. . . guests. Especially those of your nature."
"You brought me from one prison to another. I do not appreciate your 'charity,' though you might think I should. And I shall not repay it."
The Baron was taken aback by Erik's sudden change of subject. "Of course, I didn't mean for you to repay anything. It's just that you have marvelous talents, and I'm sure there is much more hiding within you. Don't you want to be respected for these talents? Don't you want the crowd to be awed, not by some simple ringmaster's fairy stories, but by your true gifts?"
Erik had to admit that the young man's words were charming. "I have never thought of it. . . I've only wanted to play for myself, and I see no talent. But others, they do?"
"Don't be so naïve," the Baron scolded him. "You know your strengths. And you know the power you hold over people. Please, use it to your advantage for once? I told you I would allow you to stay here for as long as you wished. On this condition: you must use your genius. Share it with my following. Teach them, woo them, and in doing so, you'll have broken that barrier you've spent so long putting up."
Erik thought to himself about all that this young man was saying. There could be endless possibilities for him. Though he'd spent most of his life in solitude and captivity, he knew that this was his chance to free himself of his inner torment. Though, he knew, his face was another matter.
As if on second thought, he said, "What is your first name? I should not want to call such a . . . friend as you by a formal title all the time."
The Baron smiled to himself. "My name is Montegue. Baron Montegue Von Ulrichstein, at your service." He added an equally dashing smile. Erik couldn't help but feel the dead skin of his face lift to smile in return.
**
There was a small theater in the court of Kienburg. It seated only a few dozen. Most who attended were of unfathomable wealth, or very high importance; most of the time both. Montegue was seated in the very front, his face beaming in a grin. The callers gossiped mercilessly. He knew his masked friend would stun them all. As the curtain opened, his private orchestra calmed them, the lights dimmed. Erik, clad in the finest of attire, entered onto the stage. The people gasped, a little bewildered by his strange appearance, but curious nonetheless. He picked up his borrowed violin, and prepared to play his music. The Baron beamed with pride. This man was going to do wonders for his reputation.
"Please, Erik, allow me to explain," the Baron caught the heat from his eyes. "The ladies and gentleman here, they're not used to. . . guests. Especially those of your nature."
"You brought me from one prison to another. I do not appreciate your 'charity,' though you might think I should. And I shall not repay it."
The Baron was taken aback by Erik's sudden change of subject. "Of course, I didn't mean for you to repay anything. It's just that you have marvelous talents, and I'm sure there is much more hiding within you. Don't you want to be respected for these talents? Don't you want the crowd to be awed, not by some simple ringmaster's fairy stories, but by your true gifts?"
Erik had to admit that the young man's words were charming. "I have never thought of it. . . I've only wanted to play for myself, and I see no talent. But others, they do?"
"Don't be so naïve," the Baron scolded him. "You know your strengths. And you know the power you hold over people. Please, use it to your advantage for once? I told you I would allow you to stay here for as long as you wished. On this condition: you must use your genius. Share it with my following. Teach them, woo them, and in doing so, you'll have broken that barrier you've spent so long putting up."
Erik thought to himself about all that this young man was saying. There could be endless possibilities for him. Though he'd spent most of his life in solitude and captivity, he knew that this was his chance to free himself of his inner torment. Though, he knew, his face was another matter.
As if on second thought, he said, "What is your first name? I should not want to call such a . . . friend as you by a formal title all the time."
The Baron smiled to himself. "My name is Montegue. Baron Montegue Von Ulrichstein, at your service." He added an equally dashing smile. Erik couldn't help but feel the dead skin of his face lift to smile in return.
**
There was a small theater in the court of Kienburg. It seated only a few dozen. Most who attended were of unfathomable wealth, or very high importance; most of the time both. Montegue was seated in the very front, his face beaming in a grin. The callers gossiped mercilessly. He knew his masked friend would stun them all. As the curtain opened, his private orchestra calmed them, the lights dimmed. Erik, clad in the finest of attire, entered onto the stage. The people gasped, a little bewildered by his strange appearance, but curious nonetheless. He picked up his borrowed violin, and prepared to play his music. The Baron beamed with pride. This man was going to do wonders for his reputation.