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From childhood, Lydus Bereant was raised to be one thing only: the greatest composer Corastia had ever seen, perhaps with the exception of his own great-grandfather and namesake. But even a life of fame had only brought him into the service of nobility who used his gifts for their amusement and paid little in return. All this changed when he received a royal summons to compose a singular piece of national pride and beauty in the queen''''s honor. While failure would lead to certain oblivion, success—especially in the king''''s service—was the closest a composer could come to deity.