Barcarola's Mother: Thank you all for taking the time to visit us.
Barcarola's Mother: The violins used in this demonstration are merely samples. Next month, we will hold a formal concert with them.
Barcarola's Mother: If you have any questions or suggestions, please feel free to share.
Barcarola's Mother: A violin that fits its player's habits is the best violin.
Merchants, musicians, collectors, and a few curious researchers.
This house never lacks for enthusiastic visitors.
Barcarola's Mother: Oh, Federico is really very busy. The bottega always keeps him tied up.
Barcarola's Mother: If you want to order a violin, you'll need to discuss it with him. We have several excellent apprentices, but if you insist on having him make it personally, I'm afraid you'll have to wait some time.
Barcarola's Mother: I don't know when exactly. He's been eating and sleeping at the bottega these past few weeks. He's only been back once and even then just to grab something.
The hostess smoothly handles the flurry of questions.
In a corner of the room, a small figure holds her breath, waiting for her moment.
Barcarola: I'm about to nod off before the performance even begins.
Barcarola: My parents never took my Crackling Box seriously. They always say my friends are only humoring me when they say they like it.
Barcarola: This time, we'll see how complete strangers react, and I'll know for sure.
Curled up in the cabinet, the girl holds her instrument tightly, careful not to let it get knocked around.
Barcarola's Mother: Yes, an Amati-style violino delivers a mellower, more classical, and pure sound—like the sound of spring water.
Barcarola's Mother: But if you prefer a brighter sound, the next performance should satisfy you.
Barcarola's Mother: Stradivari violins have never failed their reputation in this regard.
Several apprentices have already positioned violins on their shoulders.
As soon as the hostess finishes speaking, a harmonious melody follows.
Collector: Bravo, bravo. In the music hall, I'm certain the sound quality will come through even more clearly.
Collector: That inclined neck is a stunning work of craftsmanship.
Merchant: Haha. I happen to have an order from an orchestra here. I know it will be a wait, but for this quality, even a year will be worth it.
Taking advantage of the quiet conversation, new notes quietly diffuse into the air.
GAMEPLAY
Musician: Of course, amici! Young children need such diversions to cultivate their musical sense.
Collector: Hahahaha, who hasn't been there?
The music ends, followed by sustained, enthusiastic applause.
The hostess also offers a few begrudged words of praise.
Merchant: It appears this little surprise was arranged specially for us all. Now I'll really have to grit my teeth and order a few more violins.
Merchant: If possible, perhaps you would introduce us to our elusive performer?
Barcarola's Mother: My apologies. Troubling this particular performer might be quite overwhelming. Our giovane has a touch of stage fright.
Barcarola's Mother: But I believe you'll meet at next month's concert, signore.
Musician: A giovane! I'll be sure to arrive on time then, signora.
The small audience's discussion eventually fades into the distance.
A hand raised in the dark gently falls on the Crackling Box.
Barcarola: I knew it. They adore you!
Barcarola: But this isn't some practice toy for bambinos! Hmm, perhaps because it was too sudden and unexpected. I'll need to prepare more.
Barcarola: Just—
Rapid footsteps draw near.
Barcarola's Mother: Come out now, Barcarola.
Barcarola's Mother: Like a thief in the night. Have all the good manners we taught you gone out the window?
Barcarola: *gasp*
Barcarola's Mother: Skipping practice, wasting time down at the river, and let us not mention that bow you made at the bottega—thoroughly unacceptable.
Barcarola's Mother: What good do all your gifts and intelligence do if they're so poorly utilized? Aren't there enough mad geniuses in the family already?
Barcarola: That bow was custom-built! I made it for my instrument ...
Barcarola's Mother: Come on out now! No more excuses.
Barcarola: Wait! Mamma!
Barcarola: Astrictus ...!
At this critical moment, her Astrictus heartlessly forsakes her.
Another minor blunder in her countless failed attempts.
Her mother's hand grasps her wrist, pulling her and the Crackling Box out together.
Barcarola: Alright, mi dispiace, Mamma ...
Barcarola: But they loved my performance! I heard their applause!
Barcarola: They really praised it! It wasn't just to humor me. Didn't you hear them?
Barcarola: ...
Barcarola: I just don't want to only play the violin.
An inconvenient confession.
Barcarola's Mother: Let me see your instrument.
Barcarola's Mother: Why the hesitation? Always trust your own craftsmanship. Have you forgotten that too?
This instrument is visibly different from every other violin, viola and cello in their workshop. In fact, it's barely recognizable as a violin at all.
Its proportions are out of place and oddly shaped. The violin's neck is itself formed from what appears to be a clarinet.
Barcarola's Mother: ...
Barcarola's Mother: Your father and I selected the best spruce and maple for your violin. It's not easy to find wood with such tight and even growth rings.
Barcarola's Mother: I prepared the best varnish I've ever mixed for this.
Barcarola's Mother: We wanted to give you the most special gift we could—one that fits you best, an instrument you would love most of all.
Barcarola's Mother: Do you like it?
Barcarola: Yes, Mamma. It has a name. It's my beloved Crackling Box.
Barcarola's Mother: Despite these embellishments, you've done well for someone your age.
Barcarola's Mother: Take it.
Her mother's actions surprise her. The explanations she had prepared all slip away.
Ultimately, she can only inquire softly—
Barcarola: You're not angry, Mamma?
Barcarola: Then you've finally embraced my idea? I'm so happy!
Barcarola's Mother: I'm not mad at you, Barcarola.
Her mother's words are gentle but coiled.
Barcarola's Mother: I'm just disappointed. I once believed you were talented enough to take over the family bottega or become a great musician in your own right.
Barcarola's Mother: But who would ever take this Crackling Box of yours seriously? Who would buy such an instrument, and who in the world would ever wish to listen to it?
Barcarola's Mother: For all that talent, do you really think that the people of Cremona will ever recognize you with this? That you can pass your exam with it?
Barcarola's Mother: Without the Stradivari name behind you, would anyone applaud?
Even in her mother's dulcet calm voice, the questions sink deep, and the smile disappears from Barcarola's face.
Barcarola: No. I don't perform for their applause!
Barcarola: All you care about is the violin. Is there really nothing else, no room for anything more?
Barcarola: The violin botteghe aren't doing as well as they used to, Mamma. We have fewer and fewer workshops every year. Haven't you noticed?
Barcarola: Why can't we make changes that go beyond adjusting shapes, wood, and varnish formulas?
Barcarola: Must we continue like this until we're completely left behind by the rest of the world?
She fires back with a barrage of questions, stepping back from her mother with each one until she's almost left the room.
This marks her second failure of the day.