The conductor's baton brushes past the last note on the score, and the performance concludes to fervent applause. As usual, Liesel turns around to bow, but someone in the audience catches her eye. It is a Caprinae woman, around the same age as Paola, with both anxiety and suppressed joy in her eyes, as though she were listening to some distant melody only she could hear. Why would this bright, uplifting piece bring about such emotions? It was Paola's favorite work, and Liesel had pestered her for months before she figured out the details, for she had been fascinated by the music's freedom and spontaneity, unbound like a dancer upon the vast plains. Paola had told her not to be obsessed with accuracy, but to imagine the floating sensation of being thrown to the clouds... 'Thank you. I thought I would never hear music like that again. 'I used to hear such melodies from street corners in my hometown. It was the most unrestrained sound I'd ever heard. But then the wandering musician was chased off by the guards. 'The musicians of the spires say that such dissonance is an affront to art, that it is only beautiful to the untrained. 'But... is beauty something that can be so arbitrarily defined?' The woman falls silent. There seemed to be some kind of unspeakable pain there, hidden where Liesel could not tread. Perhaps it was the very reason Paola came to Nuovo Volsinii. She recalls Paola's comments in the margins of a copied score: Expression and beauty are not privileges, and nothing can stop true passion. Do not be fazed by criticism and scrutiny. Express yourself to your heart's delight, and we shall meet in equality. Passion will create unity, and we will come together to make new things. Liesel had not understood at the time. All she knew was that the words were beautiful and warm, just like Paola herself. Now, seeing the longing and sorrow in this woman's eyes, she realizes that the reason this piece was Paola's favorite was not because of the beauty of the music itself, but because it represented the voices of the musicians who loved music, and Paola's own vision when she founded the orchestra. Everyone who expresses themselves through their instrument deserves to be listened to. This brings her one step closer to Paola. 'My mother left Leithanien, brought this music here, and taught it to me. Now that it's where people can hear it, this orchestra will make sure it deserves to be heard.' Liesel extends her hand. 'Welcome to Nuova Volsinii. We'll perform it again next time.' The woman smiles, a faint smile as if her doubts have faded away. 'Thank you... I'll come again.' As Liesel watches the woman leave, she recalls how Paola stood upon the podium, and the dedication on the score— To all musicians. Liesel Memminger takes a deep breath and looks up. She must prepare for tomorrow's performance.