Each synchronized beat strikes the same moment, like the sound of thousands of soldiers marching in unison.
Victoria held her breath, watching the scene unfold.
Her eyes sparkled with amazement and an indescribable pride. She turned to Wellington.
The Old Duke sat poised, his previous astonishment gone, and his fingers slowly tapping his knee in rhythm.
Liszt's gaze remained fixed in the shadows.
He watched Arthur stand between the orchestra and the audience, making hundreds of nobles unconsciously follow his tempo.
This wasn't the usual sense of virtuosity.
This was dominance itself.
The rhythm soared higher, as the brass reprised the main melody.
Arthur seemed almost intertwined with the music, his gestures were simple but carried an irresistible force.
Amidst the audience's applause, the music surged towards a stormy climax.
Bam! Bam! Bam!
The last three beats of the snare drum fell heavily, and Arthur's baton abruptly stopped in mid-air.
