Agatha H and the Voice of the Castle

In a letter to his sister, Reichenbach reveals that he got the idea for this song by listening to the mating call of the Irish Elk while on a trip to Dublin. It is a performance known to test the vocal range of any performer.

Finally, we have the heart-wrenching Abduction Adagio, where Euphrosynia is stolen away by a vengeful Prince Ogglespoon, who traps the Storm King in the infamous Bonsai Hedge Maze.

As the Second Act closes and the thunder rolls, the Storm King makes his famous vow, to search for Euphrosynia forever with the heart-wrenching aria, Nothing’s More Important To Me and I’ve Got the Empire to Prove It.

In the Third and Final Act, we shall see how that vow brought about the tragic end of the Coalition of the West, the Knights of Jove, and the Storm King’s reign itself.

—The Mechanicsburg Opera and Musical Debating Society gratefully acknowledges Professoressa Kaja Foglio, who has graciously allowed us permission to use excerpts from her book: It Is Not Over Until The Fat Lady Explodes—A Helpful and Concise Synopsis of Ten Operas That Deal With The Spark. (Transylvania Polygnostic University Press)

As the great doors closed shut behind her, Agatha felt a shiver run down her spine. A smaller series of booming clunks caused her to turn—just in time to watch intricate mechanisms built into the doors snapping into place. She was in, and no mistake.

The wide hall was lined with brooding stone statues—giant armored knights with animal heads that leered down at any tiny mortals who dared enter.

Red lights were artistically placed as if to maximize the drama of the statues’ looming shadows. To Agatha’s eye, these looked remarkably like the danger lights that would come on in one of Doctor Beetle’s labs when something had gone terribly wrong. This did not add to her peace of mind, but Agatha guessed that serenity would be in short supply until she got the Castle repaired.

She noticed a faint movement in the shadows, and stopped. “Hello?”

“You have got to be kidding me!” From around a pillar oozed a young man with mean-looking eyes and a terrible scar that carved his mouth into a permanent sneer. “They actually sent someone in today? Well. Lucky me.” He strolled on over. “So let’s see what you’ve got on the cart, there.”

Agatha pulled the cart back slightly. “You have the key to unlock these shackles?”

The young man waved a hand dismissively. “Nah. But I gotta check it for—”

“Anything I’m stupid enough to let you steal? I don’t think so. I’m not going to start out my time here by getting in trouble with the management.”

The young man gave her a nasty little grin. “Heeyyy—don’t be like that. You’re gonna need friends in here.”

“I’m glad you’re friendly. Now where can I find someone in charge?”

This was evidently the wrong thing to say. “In charge?” The man snarled, and pulled a sharp-looking punch knife from somewhere in his clothes. “Right now that would be me, you cow! You see anybody else in this room?” He stepped forward. “Now, if you’re lucky, I’ll be the Guy Who Lets You Live.”

Agatha frowned and rammed the heavy hand truck into the young man’s shins. He screamed and fell to his knees. “You filthy harpy,” he howled. “I’m going to—”

Agatha rammed him again, smashing him to the ground. “My leg!” he squealed. “You broke my damn leg!”

“I doubt it,” Agatha said coldly. “I got decent grades in my anatomy classes. You’ll probably just have a nasty bruise for awhile.”

For a heartbeat, she was at a loss as to what to do next. Then she remembered her time onstage. How would the villainous Lucrezia Mongfish handle this?

She kicked the punch-knife away and placed her boot solidly on the side of his neck. “Now this…” She leaned forward a little, putting her weight into it. The man froze. “This could seriously mess you up. But it’s the least of what I’ll do to you if you screw with me again. Do you understand?”

“I—I—”

Impatiently, Agatha leaned in again, harder. “Yes!” he shrieked. “I understand!”

Agatha removed her boot and the man scrabbled away on his hands and knees, not even taking the time to climb to his feet before he was out of sight.

That was disturbingly satisfying, Agatha realized. This troubling train of thought was derailed by the sound of slow clapping from behind her. She was so caught up in the whole ‘performance’ mindset, that she almost took a bow before she caught herself.

“Nice!” The voice belonged to a diminutive girl clad in an orange coverall. She had a shaggy mop of pink-tinted hair, a set of mischievous eyes, and a huge grin, with a distinct gap between her front teeth.