"I was sleeping, you know!" Cecelia screeched. "Do you have to be so noisy?"

Noisy? "I was just tapping my pencil." Connell protested.

"It's too early in the morning to be making so much noise! Now I'm up for the day. And I'm hungry. Let's go eat."

"But I was working-"

"I don’t care!" Cecilia pouted. "You woke me up, now you're going to take me to breakfast."

Connell sighed. "But I'm worried about father. He didn't come home last night."

"Well, I'm sure he'll be back before we are." With that, Cecelia grabbed her older brother's arm and dragged him out of the house to the Fuchsia Dragon.

The manager of the Inn's restaurant recognized the two children and politely asked for their order after informing them that the day's special was fruit pastries.

"I want a pastry!" Cecelia said enthusiastically. "With my favorite fruit filling."

"And what fruit might that be, little girl?" the man asked.

"Connell knows!" Cecelia giggled and hid behind Connell. Connell's eyes widened. He couldn't remember which fruit his sister liked best. It was either apple, strawberry, or peach.

"Um… I don't remember. I think it's apple," he said apologetically. Right after he said it, he knew it was wrong. Cecelia preferred strawberry since their mother always joked about Ceely's strawberry blonde hair.

"No, dummy! It's strawberry! STRAWBERRY!" Cecelia crossed her arms.

After that, the meal went by rather uneventfully.

As the two children were returning from their meal, they noticed a large group of anxious-looking villagers standing around outside their house. "What happened here?" Connell asked timidly. Crowds worried him.

"The man living here… They say he's on his deathbed right now," a burly but friendly man answered.

"My father? What? How?" Connell rushed to the front door of his house, not waiting for a response. His mother's best friend was standing there. Her name was Mrs. S… Err… Connell couldn't remember what her name was, most of the time. It was long and confusing and began with the letter S. So he just called her Mrs. S.

"Mrs. S, do you know what's happened to my father?"

Mrs. S nodded gravely. "But you're just a child. I don't know how to tell you. It's too horrible for your young ears."

The ever-helpful villagers began asking Mrs. S questions to help prompt her into revealing the truth.

"Is it poison?"

"No," Mrs. S answered.

"A disease?"

"No."

"An injury?"

"Yes."

"Fatal?"

Mrs. S sniffled. Connell still couldn't think of her name. But that wasn't important. What mattered now was his father.

"I… I cannot tell in front of these children. It'll be too hard on them, especially to hear it from me. Best if they see it for themselves." Mrs. S ushered them inside.

Penelope, their mother, was sobbing.

"Did you tell them what happened, Cynthia?" she asked amongst her tears.

Mrs. S frowned and shook her head. " I can't. You're their mother so they should hear it from you, not me." Mrs. S muttered something under her breath and excused herself from the house, closing the door carefully behind her.

"Yes, that's right." Penelope knelt down and took one of each of her children's hands in her own and looked them both in the eye. "Children, your father… Well, he was attacked last night by some very bad men ."

"What did they do to him?" Connell asked, nearly hysterical inside, but trying to be strong on the outside to support his mother and sister.

"You don't need to hear all the details. But now… Now, your father has been left…" She paused, finding the courage to continue. "… tonedeaf."

"Tonedeaf," Connell repeated flatly.

"And?" Cecelia asked, unconcerned.

Ten seconds of complete silence followed. No longer able to contain herself, Penelope began to bawl.

"Someone did that to father?" Connell asked. "But how, and why? That's so horrible! I don't believe it." Penelope held him close.

"What's the big deal?" Cecelia asked, confused.

"Tonedeaf? What's that?" A man asked as Mrs. S told the village what had happened.

Someone explained it to him. "Being tonedeaf means that you're unable to distinguish differences in pitch in musical sounds when producing or hearing them."

"Oh?" the man said. "Oh… Oh." He blinked his eyes, puzzled, and shrugged.

The crowd dispersed, muttering about the eccentricities of musicians.

Connell was in shock. His father, famed phonologist, acclaimed pianist, world-class composer and talented conductor was tonedeaf. Tonedeaf! The worst of all horrible things. Really, really awful.

"Who could have done this?" he asked, face ashen.

"I think it was The Cacophony." His father, Roderick, answered from the bed.

Penelope placed her hand on his forehead. "Hush now, dear. Try not to speak. I'll only make things worse."

"How?" asked Cecilia.

Connell didn't like The Cacophony. It was an elitist guild of musicians who had formed a union. Non-members were strongly encouraged to become members so that harm would not come to them or their families. But their black-suited recruiters always scared Penelope and Roderick didn't approve of solicitors so he had always shooed them away.

The men came by every few weeks. Usually it was two big dark-skinned men dressed meticulously in matching dark suits. They carried small black books. They would approach the door and preach the word of The Cacophony to you. Connell worried that these men were the same kind who ate small children, so he had been glad that his parents had never joined.

He remembered the time he asked his father about The Cacophony.

"Father, why won't you ever join?"

"Well, a powerful sort of magician once told me that they possessed the power to destroy all independent small businesses by creating a monopoly on the industry. Something about price discrimination and it's effect on the market. Supply and demand. Deficit and surplus. It was quite complex. Quite an impressive sort of magic."

"What type of magician was this man? What kind of magic did he study?"

"An Economist. He studied the magic of Economics. Only Economist I've ever met. He must have been very powerful."

"Wow." Connell's eyes sparkled. "I wonder where such powerful magic like Economics is taught. Maybe the academy in Greenhill."

"Dear? I need to speak to my son alone now." Roderick was saying. Mo< Wordlessly, Penelope ushered Cecilia out the door. Roderick looked seriously at Connell.

"My son, do you remember how I told you that if anything should ever happen to me, you would become the man of the house?" Connell nodded. "Well, Connell, you are now the official man of the house."

"But father-" Connell began.

"No. It can be no other way. I need you to take care of your mother an sister since I am not long for this world. You're old enough to understand all this now."

"Father, please don't speak like this! I'm sure there's a way to cure you, and I can find it."

Roderick glanced at his son, full of pride. "You are a brave young boy. I think you deserve to hear what happened." He cleared his throat and began to tell the tale.

"I was exiting the Item Shop last night after buying the necessary supplies that your mother and I were going to need for our trip. But as I stepped out into the night, a pair of rough men shoved me rudely. I asked them to kindly step out of my way.

"'No,' one of them answered.

"'We have something we'd like you to see,' the other said. He pulled a small woodwind instrument from his pocket and held it out to me. It was an intricately designed piccolo. I gasped in amazement. It was the finest thing I'd ever seen.

"'Would you care to try it out?' the first man asked.

"'Why are you showing this to me?' I asked cautiously.

"'We are traveling craftsmen. We move from town to town, demonstrating and selling our wares to respectable musicians that we meet. We've heard of your skill, great phonologist, and we will give you a chance to try out our latest piccolo if you'd like,' the second man answered.

"Being very excited at the prospect of hearing this piccolo, I agreed to follow them. They said they didn't wish for the other villagers to hear it since surely none of them could appreciate its beauty. I understood and so they led me to an old cabin outside the village. I sat down as the second man took out the piccolo and put it to his lips."

Roderick suddenly stopped and shuddered. Connell worried for him. "Father, you don't have to continue, it it's painful."

"No, Connell, you need to hear it." He sighed. "I cannot describe well with words the tune the man played. It felt as if my ears were on fire. Each note in the melody was piercing. The piccolo had been carefully designed so that it could not emit a pure pitch. Every sound was slightly sharp or flat. It was an acoustical nightmare. And the tune itself! It was horrifying! A jumble of random sounds, with no care for rhythm or key. I could only sit there, stunned, as each note struck my ears painfully. The piece was the length of a concerto. Though my ears screamed and begged me to leave, I could not stop listening. I was spellbound, since I had never heard anything quite like it.

"Suddenly, it was over. The two men looked at me, grinning nastily.

"'Ha ha ha!' one of them laughed. 'You will never be able to hear the pureness of any instrument ever again!'

"'What do you mean?' I asked, rubbing my ears.

"'That was the Concerto Sorte Awersa. None can withstand its power. You should run home now and see. All melodies will forevermore sound the same. For you are now cursed.' After exchanging looks, the two men fled the building, still laughing.

"I returned home slowly. I noticed how none of the usual forest sounds seemed to sound right. They were garbled and distorted. I arrived here and asked your mother to help me test my suspicions. She sang many tunes for me, but I found I couldn't tell what key they were in or even the style of the songs.

"I sat beside her and tried to sing along while she played the piano. She winced every time I sang an incorrect note. The frightening part was that I could not tell which notes were sung with the right pitch and which were not. I couldn't even identify the most basic intervals. It was then that I realized the Concerto's power.

"Hence, I am now tonedeaf."

Connell stood, awestruck by the story. "So there is an instrument capable of such a terrible thing? How can that be? Instruments are only supposed to be able to create beauty in the form of music."

"I know, Connell, and that is why I think that my condition is incurable." Roderick said sadly.

"No, father, I'm sure there's a cure."

Roderick hesitated. "Well…"

"What? Tell me, please! I'd do anything I could to help!" Connell cried. And it was true. He admired no one as greatly as his father, the biggest inspiration on his life.

"I've heard that the Doremi elves hold the secrets to all things musical. If anyone would know of a cure, it would be them."

"Great! Where can I find them?" Connell asked enthusiastically.

"That's the problem," Roderick sighed. "They're a very elusive race hidden deep in a dangerous forest. I couldn't send you into danger. And no one even knows where they are."

Connell thought about that for a moment, but he was determined to do something. "Then I'll go to Greenhill and ask the people there if they know anything of the Doremi elves."

"Greenhill? But Connell, you can't go by yourself. You're too young. And I don't want anything bad to happen to you," Roderick said worriedly as only parents can.

"Father, I've been to Harmonia before to study under the phonologists there. I'll find someone to take me to Greenhill. I'm going to get you the cure!"

"You're right, Connell. All right. Go tell your mother. I guess I can't stop you. And this will be a good chance for you to discover all the amazing sounds the City-State has to offer. Sounds that I may never appreciate again." Roderick took Connell's small, dainty hand in his own. "Good luck, my son. All my hopes are riding on you."

Connell gave his father a big hug. "I won't disappoint you. I'll be back soon. I promise. I love you, father." He stood to leave.

"I love you too, Connell. Be careful. I don't want anything to happen to you."

Connell smiled at his father. "Don't worry about me. After all, everything I know, you taught me."

Penelope was upset at first by the thought of her precious son leaving, but Connell was very persuasive. His eagerness to help pleased her and in a selfish way, she wanted her husband cured above all else. She suggested that he take the provisions already prepared by herself and Roderick.

Connell thanked her and offered to take Cecilia out for their last meal together.

"Why do you have to leave, Connell? Who am I going to play with now?" Cecilia whined.

"I don't know. I'll miss you too, Ceely." Connell answered her. She was always so demanding. "I hope I'll find someone at the Inn who can take me to Greenhill. Then I'll be able to leave maybe as early as tomorrow!" The thought of traveling to such an intellectual center thrilled him.

"Take me with you!" Cecilia shrieked, latching on to him with a bear hug. Connell blinked at her. Was she crazy?

"Ceely, you can't come," he said simply.

"Why not? WHY NOT?" her voice rose dramatically.

"If you left, who would take care of mother and father? They'd probably forget to eat or even leave the house. They need you to remind them of all their appointments. You're the only one who ever remembers. And you have to go shopping with them to make sure they buy the right stuff. Sometimes they're too focused on their music to pay attention to the rest of the world. That's why they need you here more than I need you."

Cecilia stepped back from Connell, amazed. "Am I really that important?" she asked quietly.

"Of course you are," Connell assured her. "Now let's go get a snack."

"Oh…" Cecilia tackled him again. "You're the bestest big brother in the whole world! What kind of food do they have today?"

"I believe it's some kind of fruit pastries."

The siblings walked along the path to the Fuchsia Dragon, hand in hand.

"We'll have your favorite," Connell said.

"My favorite?" asked Cecilia.

The two looked at each other and laughed. In unison they chanted, "Strawberry!"

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"Connell" and "Suikoden 2" are (C) Konami. This chapter was posted on December 31, 2000