Heavy Artillery

 Every day, music.

 Every night, music, with a bit of sleep.

 Music, music, music.

 Belinda prefered more bombastic pieces to play out in public. The brass, the percussions, the strings and the woodwinds, all blending in harmony to inspire hope, to excite the heart, to leave people with a feeling of confidence or accomplishment. It was her greatest joy to see both nobles and peasants together, together like melody and rhythm, listen to her outdoor songs. They marveled as, with a wave of her baton, instruments would fly out of her case and somehow be played on their own, as if ghosts or poltergeists cooperated for the sake of putting on a show.

 Sometimes, all she needed was a piano. She would have to go into Regalt Castle to play the grand piano, but it wasn't too far from where she lived. Belinda begged that peasants should be allowed to listen in. The king disagreed at first, thinking them as worthless wastes of space that would ruin the atmosphere of the castle. He relented, however, after her more charismatic friend pulled a few strings and got on his good side. And so, lower and upper class could see her walk upon the stage, her head of red hair tied up in neat bun, her black and white dress trailing across the ground as she walked, her head held up high as a smile played upon her lips.

 Every day, her music would soothe the hearts of men, take away their worries as her fingers gracefully moved across the piano keys, her own heart beating like a ticking metronome. One with the music she made.

 One day was different, though. The piano echoed through an empty auditorium as Belinda played alone, practicing for her next performance. When the doors burst open, she expected her charismatic friend to come by to say hello.

 Sadly, she was greeted with blades, guns, and magic. At the head of this unexpected audience was the King, holding a scepter tightly in his hands and looking all the world as if he were about to pop a blood vessel. "You witch!" he hissed, venomous hate seeping through his tone. "You snuck your way in here to try to spy on me! To ruin my relations with the Great God Yursarsh! You dare stand in the way of his grand vision of greatness, rebel scum?!"

 Belinda played on as if she didn't hear him.

 "Answer me! You're part of that underground rebellion, seeking to destroy the one thing that gives us prosperity, are you not?! You and your little friend!"

 Notes still echoed on. The king held onto his scepter ever tighter,  gritting his teeth and furrowing his brow hard.

 "Perhaps a little punishment will loosen your tongue! FIRE!"

 The gunners aimed at the elegant woman and fired all at once. As they did, the king smirked. Not even a giant could survive so many bullets at once, nevermind a plain old piano player. He thought of all the praise and rewards he would get for killing a high ranking rebellion officer; a little spy of his own caught wind of how deeply she was involved. This punishment would show her-

 An absurdly loud chord rung out, taking the king and his knights off guard.  The playing stopped, but their ears were still ringing when they looked at the piano. For a split second, they saw a barrier of sorts, bullets stopped in midair before they dropped uselessly on the floor. The pianist stood up and turned the piano towards the group and smiled.

 "I'm sorry," she said sweetly, a hand reaching up to her bun and letting her hair out. "I couldn't hear you over all the noise. Now, what was it that you were talking about... Ah, yes, rebellion. What of it? Only thing I am for is turning that dissonant god away and replacing his dischord with lovely melodies and consonance. I will not let that harsh noise, his words, reach out to any more people and turn them towards darkness."

 "You insolent little-"

 A light blast of wind smacked him in the face. "Don't talk while I'm talking," Belinda said sternly before sitting down at the piano. "Now, where was I?  Oh yeah, you serve a dark god out of greed. Such a shame that you went down that path, but even people who were the best of men can turn to darkness. A king Alex and Xavier once trusted, until you ratted them out and crushed their chances of defeating Yursarsh. Such a shame..."

 "They offered me nothing! Their little team of ragtags couldn't even offer me treasure or prosperity! Yet Yursarsh, he offered me everything: Power, riches, prosperity beyond my imagination! And who can I trust more: some filthy, foolish ragtags, or a god?!"

 The room was so quiet, one could hear the tension between the king and the musician. Only when the musician sighed loudly was the silence broken.

 "Dissonant from the very beginning. Wonderful."

 "I care not for your backtalk. Your end is here!" The king pointed his scepter at her. His knights charged in and attacked, ready to claim her head. Again, a chord rang out and this time, they could clearly see the barrier of sound she made as their weapons, bullets, and magic bounced off.

She still had her smile as she opened up the piano completely. Slowly, cannons arose from within the piano, all pointed at the guard. As Belinda shook her head and ruffled her hair, she smirked.

 "Is that all you idiots got?" she laughed. "Well, if ya'll got nothin', I'mma give you what you deserve: a big serving of karma!"

 Belinda started to play the piano again, much like she did at her performances. However, she channeled her magic through the keys, through the strings, over to the cannons. And with each key she pressed, particular cannons would fire off note-shaped energy balls and lasers, wrecking whatever and whoever happened to be in their way. The knights panicked, unsure of how she got a hold of such technology, nevermind managed to fit cannons in a piano.

 She couldn't be approached from the front or the sides, what with those weapons firing off every second. The King used the seats as cover as his knights took a magical beating. He got closer and closer and tried to sneak behind her, pulling out a knife from his belt and lifting it up, ready to strike her heart.

 The music stopped abruptly, the cannons smoking with magical energy. The auditorium was in ruins. Knights, mages, and gunners alike were knocked senseless or unconcious.


 And the king?


 His face was smacked with an instrument case, nose broken with the force behind it. Belinda, standing upright, put her whole weight into pushing him back and using the case to smash his abdomen repeatedly.

"NEVER."

 SLAM!

"SNEAK."

SLAM!

"UP."

SLAM!

"ON.

SLAM"

"A LADY, YOU FILTHY COWARD!"

 After knocking all the wind out of the poor king's lungs, Belinda stopped her smashing and slung her case over her shoulder, breathing heavily after that little outburst. Just in time for her expected visitor to stroll in.

 He looked at all the carnage before staring right at Belinda. "What happened? Did someone kill your pet poodle or something? Or did they insult your dress?" he asked, eyes wide in shock.

 The virtuoso dusted herself off before walking over bodies to get to her friend. "Oh, I just couldn't take the fact that this man sold his soul to Yursarsh just for some power. So I gave him a taste of my own. Got a problem, Mr. Lyon?"

 She could see Juan shiver as she smiled. Juan grumbled, "You could at least go easier on these guys. They're scared senseless... And fear doesn't have very good results most of the time."

 "Well, if they can't handle me, they can't handle Yursarsh. Not the kind of allies I'd like to make," the musician snorted. "Besides, I don't want friends who sided with a cowardly, stupid king and never tried to talk sense into him." She sighed before shrugging and saying, "Well, what's done is done. Can we go back now? I'm tired and I could use a little friendly fight with Edwardo."

 "By fight, you mean arm wrestle, right? You know you keep losing, barely. And I don't think you should be arm wrestling after expending a lot of your magic."

 Belinda sighed dramatically before strolling out, Juan following behind her. "Well, whatever. I just want to be near nicer people. People who won't sacrifice friends for power."

 And as the virtuoso and the empath left, the virtuoso took a flute out of her instrument case and played a more hopeful tune, hoping that the rest of the nobles and the peasants in town would take that to heart instead of sweet, yet dissonant promises of power.