The modest venue is packed with people all around, leaving only the central area free for the performers.
Among them, a young girl draws the most attention.
Barcarola: Phew ... relax ...
Barcarola: After today, I'll pack up my things and start counting the days until the ship comes back.
Barcarola: Fingering, sheet music, posture ... nothing can go wrong.
Barcarola: My instrument, nessun problema. My Crackling Box is in better shape than ever.
The eyes of the crowd make her instrument feel somewhat heavier.
But she's grown used to being watched. She straightens her back and steadies the instrument on her shoulder.
Barcarola: My parents, and Maestro Battista, I just know they're going to be amazed by my new piece.
Barcarola: This song carries the scent of the sea breeze, just like a journey across the ocean to the faraway ports of Australia.
Barcarola: If we cannot travel, then at least I can bring the sounds from these distant places here.
Apprentice: Next we have—Signora Barcarola!
Apprentice: Our youngest little musician, the pride of the Stradivari!
Apprentice: I won't repeat the accomplishments she's made on her path to mastering the violin here. Remember, her playing once even made the fish in the River Po leap to shore.
Barcarola: Mamma mia! That was just a misunderstanding! And something of an exaggeration. It was about to rain that day, and ...
Apprentice: Let's see if Signora Barcarola can take the top spot this year!
Apprentice: Please come forward and show us your violin. Let us admire its elegant neck, its gleaming surface, the pinnacle of craftsmanship from the legendary ...
Apprentice: Is that really what you're playing with?
Barcarola: Yes, this is my instrument.
This time, she doesn't hesitate, naturally holding her Crackling Box in her hands and raising it so that everyone, even in the farthest corners, can see it.
The crowd falls into an odd silence.
Barcarola: The wood chosen by my parents is the best there is. Its sound is rich and balanced.
Barcarola: The varnish, the strings, the edges, the curvature of the body—these took quite some time to perfect.
Most children taking the exam will follow their family's example and remake a violin from scratch.
The other option is nearly impossible. But making small improvements to an existing instrument can be even more difficult than crafting a new instrument from nothing.
Barcarola: No matter the standard, it's already perfect enough.
Barcarola: The best instrument is the one that truly suits the performer.
Barcarola: I didn't want to make just another beautiful copy, and I love my violin. It has always been with me.
Barcarola: But, I've made a few modifications to make it more suited to my style.
Barcarola: It's not yet finished, and I'll continue trying to combine new instruments with it until it is.
Barcarola: For now, though, I intend to perform a brand-new piece for you.
Amid the stunned silence, she raises her bow.
GAMEPLAY
Collector: Our mischievous little ragazza has brought her precious toy to the stage. Quite adorable, don't you think?
Collector: Signor Cristiano, I'm certain you wouldn't have had the courage to do something like this at her age.
Musician: Hahaha, when she grows up, she'll surely be an even better violinist than I am!
After a moment, new sounds fill the room.
Applause breaks out, polite and measured.
From their courteous smiles, she can already read the results of her exam.
Barcarola: Juvenile, impractical, unsuitable ...
Barcarola: They'll never take my Crackling Box seriously.
Barcarola: All they can think of is their traditions that no one would ever want to buy an instrument like this.
Barcarola: Is that all we can strive for as artisans—to sell as many of our instruments as we can?
Barcarola: I don't belong here, not in this "City of Violins," not when there's no room for anything else.
The young girl curls up on her familiar pew, fiddling with her exam results, her mind somewhere else.
After folding it several times, it becomes a neat little paper airplane.
Barcarola: Your rustling sounds are actually quite interesting, but ...
Barcarola: How can a piece of paper summarize my entire life so completely?
Barcarola: I'm leaving Cremona, and you're going to stay here in some corner, forgotten.
Barcarola: Three, two, one. Yah!
The paper airplane glides smoothly out of the church doors, disappearing from Barcarola's sight.
Along with it, the "unsatisfactory" results and her hesitation vanish.
She stands up, the light from the stained glass blurring her vision for a moment, but she quickly steadies herself.
Barcarola: Maybe I'll come back, maybe I won't.
Barcarola: But first, I must spend some time away. Maybe the next time we come back to port, I'll visit.
Barcarola: And it'll still be the "City of Violins," and the Stradivari will still be the greatest of their violin makers.
Barcarola: Will they miss me? What will they say about me—the girl who doesn't quite belong?
Her hand traces the old pew, feeling the deep grooves in the wood.
Barcarola: No one will be there to cast incantations for your small repairs; no one will wish to record your voice and turn it into a song.
Barcarola: Will you still be here? Will someone come and clean your pews and wipe your stained glass?
Barcarola: It's time to say a proper goodbye.
The church remains silent, save for the clacking of footsteps walking toward the door.
Cruise Ticket Seller: Really? You mean it? You've really decided to join the "Free Breeze"?
Cruise Ticket Seller: Oh, gosh! This is ...
Barcarola: I know it's abrupt, and maybe you didn't think I was being serious before.
Barcarola: But if the ship's still short of musicians, I'd like to join.
Cruise Ticket Seller: That's amazing! I bet the others you'd join. Looks like I can buy lunch for the next few stops.
Cruise Ticket Seller: I'll pay for you, too. No need to be shy. Call it a celebration of our newest musicista.
Barcarola: Let's not forget, I'm only saying I've decided I want to join you.
Barcarola: I haven't even spoken to the captain yet. What if I fail the audition?
Cruise Ship Musician: Something on your mind, Barcarola? Is something getting you down?
Cruise Ship Musician: Was it your exam?
Her friend could tell her mood was off from the moment the conversation began.
Cruise Ship Musician: It's just like you said, it doesn't prove anything. It's just a way for a violin maker to gain a bit of recognition.
Cruise Ship Musician: That recognition is what keeps them going until they can run their own bottega.
Cruise Ship Musician: But that was never your plan, was it? You don't need that kind of recognition.
Barcarola: My parents and my teachers think I need it.
Barcarola: They think I'm wasting my talent and that I'm not taking my gifts seriously enough.
She moves her hand away from the violin's neck.
The once odd and impractical shape has been smoothed into an elegant and beautiful violin.
Cruise Ticket Seller: You took it apart?
Cruise Ship Musician: What are you thinking, Barcarola?! You spent ages figuring out how to make your Crackling Box!
Barcarola: I tried to do it before, but I couldn't bring myself to disassemble it.
Barcarola: Now I understand that separating things stuck together with Astrictus is much harder than keeping them intact.
Barcarola: This is actually an older violin, one I tried to make into a Crackling Box a long time ago.
Barcarola: I was still set on inheriting the bottega at that time. I thought I was destined to become the next great violin maker in the Stradivari family—the next Antonio.
Barcarola: If I leave it with my parents, they might accept my decision, and maybe they won't be too mad.
Barcarola: I've proven I can do it. I just know now that I don't want to be what they wanted me to be.
Barcarola: I'll explain everything to them tomorrow.
Barcarola: But for now, I guess I just hope you'll cheer on my performance.
Barcarola: Let's go. I have the perfect song to impress the captain.