The guests all commented on what a fine thing the Baron had found. He
smiled haughtily at them, and offered a select few a special meeting with
his prodigy. Edwin and a few others accepted gratefully, but some declined,
frightened a little by Erik's strange appearance. The Baron shrugged his
shoulders at them, seemingly not caring about the musician's unusual mask.
In reality, though, he was passionate to see what was beneath it. The mask
would bring people enough, but if the face were as hideous as he thought,
would it not bring him fame as well?
**
Montegue picked up his fine cane, placed his top hat back upon his head, and strutted through the corridors to Erik's room. It was late, and he was sure that Erik would be tired, but he'd arranged a private concert for that night. Some very important guests from Norwand were stopping by that very evening, having heard about the masked one's talents. He grinned to himself. There was a lady at the court of Norwand who'd caught his attention on his last visit. She'd turned her nose up at him before, but perhaps, after seeing his catch, she'd pay him a visit to his quarters. His grin widened at the thought.
**
Erik gazed longingly out of the barred window of his room. There were endless trees beyond, and he could smell the damp pines upon the breeze. True, he'd not been treated poorly by anyone at Kienburg, but he was still a prisoner. He was expected to perform nightly, and though the man who introduced him was not a circus master, he still felt like the main attraction at a carnival of freaks and oddities. There was also the fact that he was not pleased with himself for allowing the young Baron to take advantage of him. Perhaps he'd been vulnerable, but he'd let his guard down, and now there was no escape. It was a prison of his own making. He heard the Baron enter, the light tapping of his feet echoed throughout the chamber. Erik felt himself sneer, a cold exterior began taking shape upon his exposed countenance. The young man was grinning, a look of mischief and something else graced his handsome eyes.
"Erik," he began snootily, "I should like you to play tonight. There is a woman I wish to impress."
"No."
The Baron seemed taken aback by this unusual answer. "No? But you have to remember, I brought you here, and I wish it!"
"I am tired of playing to impress your guests. Let me be. I did not wish for you to bring me here, and least of all did I wish for you to exploit the gift I possess."
The Baron scoffed, "You think me some petty circus barker? And you, some masked wonder?"
Erik's reply was equally stony, "You are no better than the circus barker I knew. At least he had some imagination. You are a selfish, young twit."
Erik halted, slowly regretting the things he said. Before him, Montegue was turning a deep shade of crimson, anger burned hotly in his eyes. And, like Alonso, his voice was commanding.
"You will play, my friend," he gritted his perfect, white teeth, "or you will pay. I promise you."
**
Montegue picked up his fine cane, placed his top hat back upon his head, and strutted through the corridors to Erik's room. It was late, and he was sure that Erik would be tired, but he'd arranged a private concert for that night. Some very important guests from Norwand were stopping by that very evening, having heard about the masked one's talents. He grinned to himself. There was a lady at the court of Norwand who'd caught his attention on his last visit. She'd turned her nose up at him before, but perhaps, after seeing his catch, she'd pay him a visit to his quarters. His grin widened at the thought.
**
Erik gazed longingly out of the barred window of his room. There were endless trees beyond, and he could smell the damp pines upon the breeze. True, he'd not been treated poorly by anyone at Kienburg, but he was still a prisoner. He was expected to perform nightly, and though the man who introduced him was not a circus master, he still felt like the main attraction at a carnival of freaks and oddities. There was also the fact that he was not pleased with himself for allowing the young Baron to take advantage of him. Perhaps he'd been vulnerable, but he'd let his guard down, and now there was no escape. It was a prison of his own making. He heard the Baron enter, the light tapping of his feet echoed throughout the chamber. Erik felt himself sneer, a cold exterior began taking shape upon his exposed countenance. The young man was grinning, a look of mischief and something else graced his handsome eyes.
"Erik," he began snootily, "I should like you to play tonight. There is a woman I wish to impress."
"No."
The Baron seemed taken aback by this unusual answer. "No? But you have to remember, I brought you here, and I wish it!"
"I am tired of playing to impress your guests. Let me be. I did not wish for you to bring me here, and least of all did I wish for you to exploit the gift I possess."
The Baron scoffed, "You think me some petty circus barker? And you, some masked wonder?"
Erik's reply was equally stony, "You are no better than the circus barker I knew. At least he had some imagination. You are a selfish, young twit."
Erik halted, slowly regretting the things he said. Before him, Montegue was turning a deep shade of crimson, anger burned hotly in his eyes. And, like Alonso, his voice was commanding.
"You will play, my friend," he gritted his perfect, white teeth, "or you will pay. I promise you."