NaNo 2020: Klaviermann (Revamp!)

Anneliese, a partially deaf violinist who happens to be the daughter of the beloved late duke. She is raised by her strict stepmother, who has only one thing in mind: To live wealthy. And that means, Anneliese needs to marry. And considering their financial burdens now, she has to marry fast. Fortunately, the Sixth Prince is a conveniently eligible bachelor.

As long as she has her violin, she'll be okay.

Matthias, a banished son of a count, settles down with a wife and finds himself working for a small entertainment company as their pianist. Unfortunately, he soon discovers that musical entertainment is merely a cover for an extremist group out to kill off the royal family and high-ranking nobles. Under the threat of losing his loved ones, Matthias has no choice but to do as they wish, murder being a common request.

And his next task is to kill Anneliese.

Now the death toll is rising in the whole state. Anneliese must learn to find her voice if she plans to save her people and keep her stepmother's selfish plans at bay. Matthias has to find a way to leave the extremists and seek help before the people he cares about are mercilessly killed before his very eyes... including Anneliese.

Can Anneliese figure out why her people are dying, and can she put a stop to it despite her handicaps? And can she do it all while juggling her newfound feelings for a wanted murderer? Will Matthias go through with the murder, or will his heart's desire be the motivation he needs to free himself and save what remains of his family?

Never was there a time when one’s voice could be heard above an enchanting melody. Despite the chatter of an aristocratic party, the murmurs of gossiping housewives, the giggles of children playing hide and seek, everything stops at first notice of a beautiful song.

Perhaps that is why Anneliese played her violin. She played every day — she had for years — and never spoke a word. The world was silent when she played. She heard nothing over the vibrating strings in her ear and barely acknowledged the accompanying piano when it was there. She spoke with her heart, and her heart spoke with her violin.

Today, she didn’t have much to say, though her heart apparently did. She spoke to her father’s dusty tomes lined across the many shelves around her, to the silver tray of tea and biscuits waiting patiently for her to partake, to the butterscotch feline curled happily in her late mother’s favorite armchair. Ms Walker quietly sifted through parchment, her spectacles slowly slipping down her nose as she sipped her earl grey from the teal china teacup. Music was important to her student’s education after all, but she had no reason to worry Anneliese wouldn’t practice. The young lady of the estate only ever seemed to play her violin.

It was an intriguing notion to Ms Walker. Of all the students she ever taught, none of them willingly excelled in any area other than mischief. When it came to the arts, young children were reluctant to push themselves beyond the necessary lessons. They only ever wanted to do what their parents didn’t want them to do. And those children didn’t have handicaps to discourage them either.

But this girl wanted nothing more than to learn, to play, to speak. She longed to say what was in her heart, yet she had no voice with which to do so. She wanted to listen to everyone’s story, but she couldn’t always hear. To honor her late parents and properly sing the praises of her people, she applied herself as much as she could and as well as she could; but regardless of her academic work, she felt in her heart she was only worthy of living with her violin in hand.

That was what Ms Walker found peculiar. The young lady had every reason to give up, but she didn’t.

“Lovely as always, miss!” harked the maid with such a loud volume for such a small petite figure, making Ms Walker jump out of her skin at the sound of her voice. Even still, the maid signed her words to Anneliese, though Ms Walker was absolutely sure the young lady was able to hear the maid just fine.

“Do we have time for some more, Ms Walker?”

The teacher looked up at the pianist as the maid led Anneliese over for some tea. The pianist spoke at a volume they knew wouldn’t disrupt the young lady’s discussion. With a deep breath, Ms Walker shrugged her shoulders and looked back at her papers. “It is entirely up to you, Karl, I could care less.”

The pianist chuckled as he shifted his music about. It was rare to see the man move from the piano bench at all. “Don’t be so cold, Ms Walker.”

“Oh, please,” she grumbled. “I’m not being cold, I’m being honest. The festival starts tomorrow. If she needs to play more, then so be it. If I pull her away, she’ll only rob herself of sleep to make up for her lack of playtime, and I’d rather she not do that.”
“Perhaps,” he said, “but we would both rather not see her victimized by the duchess for ignoring her studies.”

“I will be the judge of that, not the duchess.”

“And which is more scarring to a young woman?”

Ms Walker looked up from her papers and exchanged looks with the completely calm old man. He was at least a decade older than she but seemed to possess the wisdom of her own grandmother — and she was not one afraid of making a child cry in shame. But she still felt annoyed that he would best her in conversation like this, and so her mouth thinned and her eyes narrowed in a silent look of warning yet conceding. The pianist merely smiled.